


you're gonna go far, kid

by tamquams



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Helnik sideplot, Jesper and Wylan are roommates (oh my god they were roommates), Kanej sideplot, M/M, Wesper centric, Wylan POV, author uses wylan as her emotional support character, ongoing fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:28:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21980197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamquams/pseuds/tamquams
Summary: Jesper’s eyes glinted mischievously. “Well, you know about my gambling problem. Nina here likes to beat people up, Inej is sneaky, Kaz is a thief, and Matthias committed a hate crime.”“Wait, what?” Wylan asked without even thinking.The obligatory boarding school AU.
Relationships: Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck
Comments: 102
Kudos: 301





	1. CHAPTER ONE

Wylan had stopped pleading with his father. He was too proud to continue begging, to even ask anymore. Jan Van Eck had made it very clear that his position would not be swayed by anything less than a bonafide miracle. So Wylan came to terms with his exile.

Not to say that he wasn’t anxious about it. He may have come to peace with the idea of being sent away to boarding school, but there was still fear rooted so deeply inside of him that he thought he may never escape it. Ketterdam Academy was not one of the posh, cozy boarding schools that the other kids of his childhood neighborhood were sent away to. It was specifically a school for _troubled teens_ , which was obviously code for _kids that should be in jail but have rich mommies and daddies_. And Wylan wasn’t a troubled kid. He was the very image of perfection, honestly, except for the simple fact that he just couldn’t read.

Years of expensive tutors and testing and moving schools hadn’t saved him. He was diagnosed with every learning disability in the book, but there was no treatment that could help him. He was an exceptionally bright boy, and he was like a magician with numbers and equations, but Wylan couldn’t string together a four-letter word if his life depended on it. His father wasn’t sure if it was weakness or laziness or rebellion, but whatever it was, Jan Van Eck wanted no part in it. Nobody of his stature deserved to have such an embarrassment for a son. Hence, Ketterdam.

The trip to the school had been… awkward, to say the least. Wylan’s step-mother, a very young, very pregnant woman named Alys, was too close to her due date to risk setting foot on a plane, and she and Wylan had never been particularly close anyway. Their goodbyes had been hasty and polite, but lacking in any real emotion. He supposed she might not have even fully understood the situation, but he couldn’t find it in himself to mind. Alys was a sweet woman, if a bit simple, but she was closer to his age than his father’s and the baby she was carrying was likely meant as Wylan’s replacement. He didn’t resent Alys, or his unborn half-sibling for any of this, but he just wasn’t incredibly fond of anyone bearing the Van Eck name these days.

The flight from New York to Seattle was nearly four hours long. Four hours of complete and utter silence, broken not even by a cough or sneeze. Wylan tried to pass the time by sleeping, but his nerves wouldn’t allow it. So he popped his earbuds in and shuffled Taylor Swift’s latest album in the hopes that some of that golden daylight she mentioned would leak out into his life and warm the chill of fear and heartbreak that was pounding through his veins.

Ketterdam Academy was located on a small island called Kerch. It sat in the middle of Lake Washington, a bit north of Mercer Island, not technically incorporated into Seattle but close enough to be considered part of the city. It was accessible only by ferry boat, for the safety of both the students and the people of the mainland. By the time Wylan and his father finally reached the shores of Kerch, it was mid-afternoon and they still had not spoken a word to each other. A shuttle bus provided transportation for all of the travelers from the docks to the school, and for that ride, too, the Van Ecks remained silent.

When the gates of Ketterdam came into view, however, it took every ounce of strength in his slender body for Wylan to keep from gasping. The fence was not chained-link and buzzing with electricity, as he had expected; it was three stories tall and wrought-iron, much like the fence around his family’s country home. The gate opened slowly for the bus, the hinges perfectly smooth and silent, and Wylan found himself nearly pressing his nose against the window in an effort to see the school itself.

For a few moments, he couldn’t see a thing but deep green grass and tall evergreens scattered across the grounds. But then the bus turned, and the building finally came into view. It resembled a palace more than a school, sprawling across entire acres in a display of wealth and power. Its facade was impressive stonework, its roof steep and gabled. The front doors, twelve feet tall and solid mahogany, were thrown open despite the fog. 

Staff dressed in crimson livery stood patiently outside the front doors, smiling warmly as the bus stopped at the end of the drive and deposited its riders. They looked as if they belonged in a period piece about forbidden love and colonialism, not waiting on the _troubled teens_ of Ketterdam Academy. But, then again, the entire school seemed to belong in a different century. Wylan decided not to think too much about the outfits.

Young men descended upon the bus as soon as the doors were open, methodically dividing up the luggage and placing it on carts to be taken safely inside the school. The crowd of students and their families was led up the stone steps and through the open doors, where they stopped just inside the entrance hall.

If the exterior of the building had been beautiful, the interior was simply breathtaking. Wylan couldn’t stop himself from craning his neck to get a better look at the entire room. His mouth agape, he took in the grand chandelier above them, hundreds of crystals sending miniscule rainbows and reflections all across the delicately-detailed ceiling. The floor was a vast expanse of white marble, real marble, not unlike the floor of Wylan’s own kitchen back home. The walls were adorned in oil paintings that must have been worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. There were two large archways leading to other rooms, one on each side wall, and a few smaller doors as well.

And directly across from the entrance was the grand staircase. It led up one story and then split off into two directions, most likely leading into the east and west wings of the school. On the wall of the landing was a large portrait that took up almost the entire wall. It depicted a rather cruel-looking man who somewhat resembled a walrus, if you asked Wylan. 

He didn’t notice the woman on the stairs until she began to speak. She was tall and good-looking, standing exactly halfway up the steps with her head held high. Her red dress clung to her slim form and her blonde hair was pulled into a severe bun that accentuated the sharp angles of her face. Everything about her seemed to be stern and elegant and terrifying.

“Welcome to Ketterdam Academy,” she said, her voice clear across the large space. “I am Heleen Van Houden, but you may call me Mistress Van Houden. I am the Deputy Headmistress. It is my honor to welcome you to our school.”

Mistress Van Houden smiled at the crowd, but it did little to calm Wylan’s nerves. If anything, it only made him _more_ nervous. There was something sinister in her words, in the way she moved. He made a mental note to never cross her.

“Tonight at dinner, Headmaster Rollins will personally welcome you all to another semester at Ketterdam Academy, but until then, you are welcome to take some time to rest or explore our grounds. Our staff would be happy to show you to your rooms or any of our facilities. All I ask is that all students make sure to check in before dinner. Families, you are welcome to stay to take dinner with your students this evening should you so desire. If any of you need to get back to the mainland in a hurry, however, the next shuttle will be leaving for the docks in ten minutes time. Thank you.”

Mistress Van Houden had not even made her way down the steps before Jan Van Eck turned to Wylan. With no preamble, he told his son, “I’m leaving now.”

“O- okay,” Wylan mumbled, blinking in shock. He supposed that he had expected his father to stay for dinner. But that, of course, was too much to ask.

Suddenly, Jan placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, and for just a moment, Wylan thought his father might tell him he loved him. But instead, he just looked the boy in the eye and said, “You know what you must do to come home.” And then he was gone.

Numbly, Wylan stared at the space where his father had just stood, his mind trying to work through what had just happened. His father was gone. He was alone at a boarding school full of rich kids on their worst behavior. He was tired, and he was frightened, and he was also incredibly confused. He allowed himself to look around the room again and almost laughed to himself. Who in their right mind would spend so much money on decorations that were sure to be defiled within days of the semester’s start?

After a moment, Wylan’s eyes fell on a table near the stairs. Two young women dressed in crimson sat behind it patiently, holding clipboards in perfectly manicured hands. Students and adults seemed to be drifting away from the table in favor of more interesting aspects of the school, so there was no line. He reached the table quickly.

“Name?” one of the young ladies said with a smile. She had happy eyes and dark, glossy hair.

“Uh, Van Eck. Wylan.” He hated the insecurity that permeated his voice as he spoke, but the girl seemed to think nothing of it. She skimmed the list in her hand, flipped a few pages, and then nodded. In a single, graceful motion, she turned the clipboard to face him and pointed at something with a pen. “Sign here,” she said.

He was lucky she had pointed at his name or else it would have taken him quite a while to find it. In a clumsy, awkward scrawl, he signed on the line, thanking his saints that he at least could write his own name. But all of his thankfulness went out the window when the girl handed him a thick folder and said “Here’s your room assignment! Have a nice day!”

With a small, panicked nod, Wylan hurried away from the table and sought out the loneliest spot he could find, which happened to be on the landing of the stairs. _Breathe_ , he thought to himself, forcing air in and out of his lungs as he stared at the folder in vain. He may as well have been trying to decipher ancient hieroglyphics. There was no way he’d ever be able to read a word on the cover, let alone on the papers inside.

Against his will, tears sprung into his eyes, and he shook his head slightly as he blinked them away. _Okay, it’s okay_ , he thought, grinding his teeth. _You’ll figure something out. You always do._

And then, because Wylan’s saints really seemed to hate him, he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to find himself in extremely close quarters with the most beautiful boy he had seen in the entirety of his short, miserable life. “Everything okay, pretty boy?” the stranger said in a deep voice that inexplicably reminded Wylan of honey.

Without thinking, Wylan looked the boy up and down. He was incredibly tall and very lanky, all sharp angles and lithe muscles. His skin was dark and smooth and seemed to radiate heat. His eyes were golden, his teeth straight and white, and oh god, he had the most gorgeous lips Wylan had ever laid eyes on. It took all of his self control to look away.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he said, three octaves higher than his normal voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I mean, yeah, I’m good. Just kinda lost.” He smiled halfheartedly at the folder in his hands, and the stranger snagged it without a word.

The taller boy’s eyes zipped across the cover, taking in the information like it was the easiest thing in the world. _It is, for him,_ Wylan reminded himself, watching the stranger’s nimble fingers pluck the stack of papers from the folder and flick through the pages quickly. Finally, he grinned and handed the maroon folder back to Wylan. “Don’t worry, kid,” he said, taking Wylan’s hand roughly in his, “I can show you what you’re looking for.”

Warmth blossomed across Wylan’s cheeks as he allowed himself to be dragged down the corridor to his left and up a flight of stairs, then another. He tried to focus on the path to his room so he wouldn’t have to ask for directions again, but it was next to impossible to pay attention to anything other than the warmth of the stranger’s hand in his, the pressure of his palm and the smoothness of his fingers.

“So what’s your name, blondie?” the stranger asked on the third consecutive flight of stairs, his voice steady despite their fast pace.

Winded, Wylan took a breath. “Wylan Van Eck.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” said the taller boy, looking back to flash Wylan another crooked grin. “I’m Jesper Fahey.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Wylan said as Jesper finally guided him off the stairs. They were in a long hallway with cream-colored walls and a window at the end. There were ten doors, five on each side of the hall, each with a three digit number on a plaque above them. The blond found himself quite relieved: he could read numbers, at least.

Jesper led him to the third door on the right and then leaned against the doorframe. “Here we are,” he said with a smirk. “Room three hundred seven.”

“Thank you,” said Wylan gratefully as he slid his hand into the folder to grab his room key. It was bronze, a skeleton key, just another part of this strange school that belonged in a different time. As he pushed it into the lock and wiggled it unceremoniously, he felt Jesper’s eyes on him and couldn’t stop himself from blushing once more.

“Here, let me help,” Jesper offered after watching Wylan try and fail to unlock the door. One of his hands closed around Wylan’s again and turned all the way to the left, wiggled right slightly, and then left again. The door unlocked with a soft _click._

“How’d you know to do that?” asked Wylan, raising an eyebrow at the taller boy. Jesper just winked and reached up to turn the doorknob, and the door swung open silently.

Slowly, curiously, Wylan stepped over the threshold into the room, his eyes sweeping the small space and taking in every detail they could. He was very surprised to find half of the room already decorated and looking as if it had been lived in for months. The bed was made messily, as if whoever slept there had just pulled the comforter up over wrinkled sheets as they ran out the door. There were posters for old movies and bands hung crookedly on the walls, and the desk was covered in crumpled papers and uncapped pens.

The other half of the room, Wylan’s half, was sterile and empty except for his luggage. He wasn’t sure when the staff had found the time to deposit all of his belongings in the room, since he had only been at the school for less than twenty minutes, but he was very grateful. He didn’t have anything better to do at the moment than unpack, anyway.

He didn’t notice that Jesper followed him inside until the other boy spoke. “So why are you here, anyway?” he asked, pushing the door closed behind him with the heel of his boot.

“Oh,” Wylan said, looking up from where he was unzipping a suitcase. “You came in.”

“I did,” said Jesper with a nod, leaning back against the door. “Why are you here?”

“What, in my room?”

Jesper rolled his golden eyes. “No, blondie, I mean _here_ , as in the school. Nobody comes to Ketterdam for no reason.”

Oh. Oh no. Wylan couldn’t explain to the most beautiful boy in the world that he was illiterate. He couldn’t tell him that he was just the embarrassing son of a very powerful man, a boy who had every opportunity but still could never learn to do one of the most simple things in the world. He had to think fast. He had to come up with something badass, something that would allow him to fit in here. Except he was one of the most well-behaved teenagers in the world. _Think, Wylan. Think._

The words left his mouth before he even had time to consider them. “I blow things up.”

It wasn’t really the truth, but it wasn’t necessarily a lie, either. He was very talented at chemistry, and he _had_ been allowed to start a controlled fire in the lab once. Surely he could exaggerate that into a reason to be at a school for troublemakers.

A silence stretched over the room, and when Wylan turned to look at Jesper, he found the older boy’s mouth had fallen open in surprise. “You blow things up?” he asked, his eyes raking over Wylan’s slender frame. “Like, kaboom?”

Wylan held in a chuckle. “Like kaboom,” he agreed, his cheeks pinking once again.

Running a hand through his short hair, Jesper let out a bark of laughter. “That’s more hardcore than I was expecting,” he admitted.

Uh oh. Had Wylan gone too far? Was everyone else here actually perfectly average, and now he was going to be labelled the pyro kid? Packing his panic deep down, he shrugged one shoulder and got back to unpacking. “And you?”

“Oh, me?” Jesper paused like he was waiting for Wylan’s undivided attention, but the blond just continued his work. After a moment, the taller boy continued. “My dad says I’ve got a quote-unquote _gambling problem._ The gun thing he could handle, but god forbid I play a game of cards every once in a while.”

“Gun thing?” repeated Wylan, finally taking a second to glance over at Jesper.

Jesper grinned. “I like guns,” he said, cocking his head to the side slightly. He must’ve noticed the way Wylan’s hands fell still on top of his luggage, because he added, “I don’t shoot them. Just like having them around.”

“Oh,” said Wylan with a lame nod.

There was another pause, and then Wylan heard the creaking of springs as a body hit his roommate’s mattress. He turned fully to watch as Jesper kicked off his shoes and lay back, crossing his arms underneath his head.

“I’m not sure you should—” the blonde began, but Jesper interrupted him.

“So this is your first semester.” It wasn’t a question but a statement, and Wylan could only nod in confirmation before the taller boy continued. “Ah, fresh meat. Don’t worry, we don’t dunk the new kid’s head in the toilet here, we just shank him once or twice as a welcoming ritual.”

It was surely a joke, but Wylan still felt his heart rate rise. He ignored the comment. “You probably shouldn’t be laying in my roommate’s bed,” he said calmly, placing a stack of folded clothing in the top drawer of his dresser.

“Oh, but why not?” Jesper asked. Wylan could tell just by his voice that he was grinning. “I bet your roommate wouldn’t mind. He’s probably a nice fellow. Handsome too, I’m sure.”

What was that supposed to mean? Wylan rolled his eyes and continued folding his shirts. He was still trying to come up with a worthwhile comeback when there was a loud knock at the door.

Before the blond could even reach for the doorknob, he heard Jesper shout “Come in!” and the door swung open, nearly slamming into Wylan’s body. He felt frustration rising inside of him. This Jesper character was starting to become more of a liability than anything else.

A girl rushed into the room without sparing a glance toward Wylan. She flung herself down on the bed beside Jesper, pulling him into her arms with a giggle, and Wylan couldn’t help but watch helplessly as his poor roommate’s side of the room was violated more.

“Oh, I’ve missed you!” exclaimed the girl as she snuggled her head against Jesper’s chest. He brushed a hand over her hair delicately and sighed.

The girl was tall, taller than Wylan. Her dark hair was shiny and long, her skin marvelously tan. She wore a dress the same color as the staff, but it clung to her curves casually and was accompanied by black combat boots and black acrylic nails. 

“I’ve missed you too, Nina,” Jesper said, his voice warm as he placed a light kiss to her forehead. She giggled some more, and Wylan cleared his throat across the room.

Nina turned then, finally seeming to notice his presence. She looked him over once, grinned, then turned back to Jesper. “So you finally got a roommate!” she said excitedly. “Did Rollins forget about the Big Bolliger incident?”

“The Big Bolliger incident wasn’t even my fault—” Jesper started.

“He’s not my roommate,” interjected Wylan, and Nina narrowed her eyes slightly.

“Then why are you unpacking in his room?”

Wylan froze. His mind raced through the last thirty minutes: Jesper’s grin when he looked at Wylan’s room assignment, his confident leadership through the hallways, his expertise with the key, the way he snuggled into the bed without a care in the world…

Oh, no.

Wylan turned toward Jesper with pure rage in his eyes.

“This is _your_ room?” the blond hissed, throwing a t-shirt down on his mattress. “You knew we were roommates and you didn’t even _tell_ me?”

In response, Jesper just shrugged. “You were bound to find out soon enough,” he said, closing his eyes. Nina looked between the two of them with a glint of amusement in her eye.

“This is gonna be a fun year,” she mused.


	2. CHAPTER TWO

“Wylan, you coming?”

Wylan’s head jerked up at the sound of his name. Jesper was standing in the doorway, one perfect eyebrow arched at the blond, and Nina was in the hallway waiting. They must’ve been talking to him, but he had been so busy delivering an angry monologue in his head while he unpacked that he missed it.

“Er, what’s that?”

Jesper rolled his eyes fondly. “Pay attention, blondie. It’s time for the big start-of-term dinner. You coming with us or not?”

For half a second, the shorter boy considered his options. Then he dropped the pillowcase that was in his hands. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

Nina and Jesper kept up a steady stream of conversation as they walked ahead of Wylan down the corridor and then the stairs. They were each discussing a different topic and not really paying attention to the words coming out of each other’s mouths, but it didn’t seem to bother either of them. Wylan, however, wasn’t sure who he should be listening to, and gave up on both of them by the time he was on the second flight of stairs. 

The entrance hall was empty when they descended the last bit of stairs, and the echo of a hundred conversations came through the large archway on the right side of the room. Nina and Jesper led Wylan into the dinner hall easily, as if it was a walk they had made a hundred times, and the blond struggled to keep them in his sights as they entered the large crowd of students and families assembled for the meal.

The room was packed, the tables overflowing, but the trio made their way to a table with several empty seats in the far corner of the room. There was one empty chair at the end and two right in the middle, but when Wylan made to sit at the end seat, Jesper just grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him to the middle seats.

“Raske, move,” said Jesper, patting a dark-haired boy on the shoulder gruffly.

“What?” the boy said, glaring up at Jesper

“I said, move. Wylan’s gonna sit here.”

Wylan immediately flushed red. “No, that’s fine, I can sit—”

“You can sit _here_ ,” Jesper said meaningfully, glaring back at Raske until the boy finally backed down. He stood up and shoved past Wylan, muttering under his breath, and then slammed down into the seat at the end of the table.

It was Jesper who sat in the vacated seat, however, and he patted the empty seat to his right and waggled his eyebrows at Wylan. “Sit, blondie.”

Wylan took his seat hesitantly, more than aware of the dozen pairs of eyes pointed in his direction. Nina sat to his right and immediately struck up some friendly banter with the blonde girl to her right as if a fight hadn’t almost just broken out right in front of them.

“Jesper,” the girl sitting across from Jesper said in a low tone. She was small and thin, with thick black hair pulled into a loose braid. Her deep brown eyes flickered over to Wylan once. “Who’s your new friend?”

“This is Wylan,” said Jesper cheerfully, slinging one long arm across Wylan’s shoulders. “He’s my roommate this year.”

“They let you have a roommate?” the girl inquired.

“Yes, they let me have a roommate. I spent the entire summer convincing Rollins that the Big Bolliger incident was not my fault, and I guess it worked because little Wylan here is all moved into the Crow Club with me!”

“The Crow Club?” Wylan repeated.

“That’s what we call the third floor of the west dorms,” said Nina before returning to her own conversation.

“What makes him so special that he can take Raske’s seat?” the girl with the braid asked, one eyebrow quirked.

A grin spread across Jesper’s face. “We don’t need the pyro anymore,” he said, earning himself a furious glare from the end of the table. “Wylan here blows things up.”

That caught everyone’s attention.

“He blows things up?” the girl repeated, her suspicious gaze lingering on Wylan. “Like, kaboom?”

“Like kaboom,” said Jesper solemnly.

“What did you say his name was?” The dark-haired boy seated directly across from Wylan seemed to be seeing the boy for the first time. Everything about him was sharp and meticulous. He was dressed in all black and even wearing black leather gloves. A warning bell went off somewhere in Wylan’s head.

“Wylan Van Eck,” said Jesper proudly, as if he were introducing a prize-winning cow at a county fair.

“And he blows things up?”

“Yes.”

“Will you stop talking about me like I’m not here?” Wylan suddenly snapped before immediately turning red. 

“He’s right,” Nina said after the briefest moment of awkward silence. “We should at least introduce ourselves. I’m Nina Zenik.” She flashed a perfectly-glossed grin. “This is Matthias Helvar,” she said, gesturing toward a very tall, very muscular boy across from her who hadn’t spoken yet. “That’s Kaz Brekker,” she said with a wave at the dark-haired boy across from Wylan. “That’s Inej Ghafa,” she said, pointing at the girl with the braid. “And you already know Jesper.”

Wylan nodded as Nina spoke, taking in the names as quickly as he could. But something tugged at the back of his mind… Jesper’s voice saying “ _Nobody comes to Ketterdam for no reason._ ”

“So why are you all here?” he asked, looking slowly around the table.

Jesper’s eyes glinted mischievously. “Well, you know about my gambling problem. Nina here likes to beat people up, Inej is sneaky, Kaz is a thief, and Matthias committed a hate crime.”

“Wait, what?” Wylan asked without even thinking.

A low chuckle escaped Jesper’s lips. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions, blondie, but it looks like Rollins’s speech is about to begin, and we would be horrible friends to allow you to miss your first start-of-term speech.”

As if on cue, a microphone turned on somewhere, and one high note of feedback cut across the room and silenced the crowd. Everyone immediately faced the front of the room at the same time, and Wylan caught his first look at the school’s notorious headmaster.

Well, actually, it was his second look.

The man standing on a raised platform at the front of the room was the very same man who’s gigantic portrait hung at the top of the stairs in the entrance hall. He was dressed impeccably, his hair gelled back perfectly, and yet he still reminded Wylan of a walrus. How unfortunate.

“Welcome, students and families, to another year at Ketterdam Academy. To our new students, we are excited to have you, and hope you learn something from your time here. To our returning students, we are glad to see you once again. I hope that you’ve had a safe and productive summer holiday…”

As his voice droned on, Wylan found himself investigating the people at his table once more. They were each turned to face the headmaster and so the younger boy took the opportunity to look closer at them and try to learn as much as he could.

The large, muscular boy, Matthias, was obviously the oldest of the group. He had blond hair that fell nearly to his shoulders and light stubble across his chin. His jawline was strong and his eyes were an icey blue that reminded Wylan strangely of the tundra. He sat perfectly upright in his seat, eyes trained forward with impenetrable focus, and wore a grey t-shirt underneath a plain denim jacket.

Inej was sitting with her legs curled underneath her, her small fingers playing with the tip of her messy braid as she listened to the speech. Her skin was dark but not quite like Jesper’s— Wylan reckoned she was of southern Asian descent. She wore a leather jacket that was slightly too big for her and a pair of skinny jeans, and her eyes were ringed with dark eyeliner. She gave off a vibe that suggested she was both capable of killing a man and one of the kindest people you would ever meet.

The boy directly across from Wylan was the most terrifying of the group by far. He wasn’t particularly tall or strong-looking, but there was a darkness in his eyes that was unmistakable. Everything about him looked severe, from the angle of his hairline to the snug fit of his wool coat. There was a deeply intelligent look about him, but also an air of incomparable cruelty. Wylan made a mental note never to cross Kaz Brekker.

Nina was beautiful. Tall, curvy, with long wavy hair and glossy eyelashes. She had flawless skin and perfect teeth and also an aura that said she wasn’t afraid of anything. She seemed like a nice person, though, and Wylan immediately felt as if he could trust her.

And then there was Jesper. Tall, dark, handsome Jesper Fahey. His clothes were quite honestly ridiculous — really, a _lime green suit_? — but somehow he managed to pull it off. _I’d like to pull it off,_ Wylan thought before he could help himself, and then he blushed even though nobody could hear him. He shook his head slightly and went back to his inspection. The boy reminded Wylan of a bottle of expensive liquor that his father kept on the shelf in his study — beautiful, unreachable, taunting him — he just wanted to reach out and consume the whole damn thing —

Jesper’s voice, so low only Wylan could hear, cut through his thoughts. “Like what you see, blondie?”

Wylan blinked once, twice, and shook his head slightly, looking away from Jesper. “Oh, sorry, I- I must have zoned out,” he whispered. Jesper just smirked.

“Yes, I’m sure you did,” he said before turning back to the speech. Wylan turned his own attention back to the headmaster just in time to catch the very last remarks.

“...With that said, I am sure that we are going to have a wonderful year here at Ketterdam Academy. Parents, thank you for letting us teach your children. Students, I hope you learn something new this year. Thank you.”

Applause broke out across the room, and Wylan forced his hands together three times before realizing that nobody at his table was clapping. His hands dropped awkwardly into his lap as Inej gave him a bemused look.

“Well, now that that garbage is over…” Jesper said, turning to face Wylan once more, “Let the questions begin.”

Wylan wasted no time. “Nina likes beating people up?” 

On his other side, Nina laughed. “I don’t beat people up,” she said defensively. “I get in fights. Usually someone else starts them. I get in trouble because I win.”

Wylan nodded. “You said Inej is… sneaky. It isn’t a crime to be sneaky.”

“It is when you use your sneakiness to break into government buildings, art museums, and rich people’s houses,” said Jesper.

“Why would you do that?” Wylan asked before he could stop himself.

“Because Kaz asked me to,” Inej said simply.

Wylan turned his attention toward Kaz. “So you’re a thief, right? That’s kind of normal.”

The corner of Kaz’s mouth quirked up slightly. “Not the way I do it.”

Wylan gave him a moment to elaborate on that, but when he didn’t, the blond turned his attention to Matthias. “And you… committed a hate crime?”

Matthias seemed to shrink in on himself. “Yes,” he said slowly, meeting Wylan’s eyes. “A few years ago. I have learned from my mistakes. I am a different man now.” They way he spoke was so incredulously formal it was nearly amusing, but he also seemed sincere. Wylan nodded.

“Was it, like, racist? Or homophobic?” asked the shorter boy, almost afraid of the answer.

There was another pause as Matthias considered his words.

“Matthias comes from a very… religious area,” Nina offered, stepping in to spare Matthias the pain of recounting his past. “His church radicalized him against non-Christians.”

“Oh, so it was, like, anti-Semitic?”

“Not exactly,” said Nina with a grimace. “He… burned a cross… on the front lawn… of a Wiccan.”

Dead silence.

“Oh,” Wylan said finally, his voice not much more than a squeak. “Okay.”

“Oh, but don’t worry, blondie,” Jesper said, giving Wylan a hard slap on the back. “He’s over it now. He has a crush on Nina, and she’s a witch.”

Matthias’s face burned bright red at Jesper’s words, and Nina grinned widely. But it was Kaz who spoke next.

“Van Eck,” he said, his face inscrutable as he stared Wylan down. “Where are you from?”

“New York,” answered Wylan immediately.

Kaz nodded. “Your family didn’t stay for dinner.”

It wasn’t a question, but Wylan felt obligated to answer him anyway. “My dad’s a busy man,” he said with a shrug, trying to sound disinterested. “Mom’s dead, step-mom is too pregnant to make the trip. It’s fine.” He swallowed hard. “Your families didn’t stay either.”

“If you’re enough trouble to send away, and your parents bother sending you somewhere as remote as Ketterdam, odds are you don’t have the best relationship with your family,” Jesper said.

Wylan nodded. “Fair enough.” He was about to open his mouth to ask another question when suddenly two doors at the front of the dining hall burst open and lines of crimson-clad staff members strolled out pushing carts of food. They spread out across the room, reaching tables with practiced ease and placing delicate dishes in front of the diners in graceful motions. It only took a few minutes for servants to reach Wylan’s table and serve the blond and his companions.

“Is it always like this?” he asked Nina quietly as soon as the staff had moved on.

“Yes,” she said, picking up a cloth napkin and spreading it across her lap. “It is.”

“This place is weird.”

Jesper laughed at that. “This place is a thousand times weirder than you could even imagine, blondie,” he said, picking up a fork.

“This place isn’t everything it seems,” added Inej as she reached for a pitcher of ice water.

“This place isn’t anything that it seems,” remarked Matthias as he took his first bite.

“This place is going to burn to the ground,” Kaz said, and the five of them looked up at him in astonishment. His eyes were ablaze with ambition. “And we are going to be the ones to light the fire.” 

Wylan could swear they all glanced his way before returning to their meals.


	3. CHAPTER THREE

“So, The Barrel, that’s what we call the dining hall. The entrance hall is The Lid. Boys’ dorms are West Stave, girls’ dorms are East Stave. First floor of West Stave is Hellgate, that’s where Matthias’s room is. Second floor is The Emerald Palace, we avoid it like the plague. Third floor, that’s ours, we call it The Crow Club. Fourth floor is The Slat, Kaz lives up there. As far as East Stave goes, all you need to know is the second floor, Nina and Inej’s floor, is called The White Rose.”

Wylan tried his hardest to memorize all the phrases Jesper was throwing at him. They were both sitting on the floor of their room and Jesper was gesturing at different symbols on a hand-drawn map of Ketterdam. His head hurt and his eyes burned, but he was determined to learn as much about the school as he could. 

“These spaces in here are secret passageways that we’ve discovered over the years. Well, mostly Inej, if I’m being honest.” The taller boy slide his finger across a thin black line between two walls. “We call them canals.”

“Why all the codenames?” asked Wylan, his voice weary.

Jesper shrugged. “Because the Dregs are enigmatic.”

“The Dregs?”

“Oh! I guess I forgot the most important codename at all. The Dregs: that’s us. This entire school is run by gangs: The Dime Lions, the Razorgulls, the Black Tips, the Liddies, Harley’s Pointers, and the Dregs.”

“Wait, did you say gangs?” Surely Wylan was going crazy. “You’re in a gang?”

“Well, yeah,” said Jesper, cocking his head at Wylan. “Everyone is. That’s how you survive here.”

“That’s how you- what?”

The taller boy rolled his eyes impatiently. “It’s like prison. You join a gang to increase your chances of survival. You’re lucky, blondie. The Dregs don’t recruit just anyone.”

“But I don’t want to join a gang!” Wylan sputtered.

“Well, your options are join a gang or get your ass kicked every day for the rest of the year. Do choose wisely.” And with that, Jesper scooped up his map and was over on his side of the room, his back turned on Wylan as he readied for bed. The younger boy stood slowly, still trying to process all of the information he had just learned.

Neither boy said another word as they got into their pajamas and climbed into their beds, but Wylan could swear he saw Jesper glancing over at him more than once.

“So, what’s the Big Bolliger incident?” Wylan asked Jesper as soon as he returned to their room after brushing his teeth.

It was Saturday morning and sunlight was streaming in through their windows, a sight that Wylan was sure would be rare on their tiny Washington island. Jesper was sitting at his desk fidgeting with one hand while he scribbled madly in a notebook with the other.

“Well, you see, I would love to tell you all about it,” he said, not looking up from the wet ink on the page before him, “but I’m afraid I can’t share that information with someone who isn’t a Dreg.”

Wylan rolled his eyes as he began to make his bed. “Are you trying to use gossip to bribe me into joining your gang?” 

“Yes I am,” said Jesper, looking up this time. Wylan could feel the older boy’s eyes on him. “It was either gossip or sex, and I haven’t quite determined if you’re straight or not yet.”

Wylan froze for a moment, and when he returned to the task at hand, his usually nimble fingers were clumsy in their quest to tuck in the edges of his flat sheet. “I’m not- I don’t- You-” His lips couldn’t form a coherent sentence. Suddenly even spoken words were evading him. “I mean, no- I can’t-”

Jesper laughed, and when Wylan glanced back, the taller boy was still watching him raptly. “Relax, blondie, the Dregs are a very accepting people.” He stuck the end of a pen in his mouth. “Some of us more so than others,” he added with a wink. Wylan’s face burned an even brighter shade of red, if that was possible.

“Well,” said the shorter boy, blinking rapidly. “I’m going to- I have to- I’m going now.” Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Jesper grinning at him as he crossed the room and hurried out the door.

Breakfast was lonely without the Dregs. Wylan sat alone at an empty table near the edge of room, trying his best to not look too gloomy. The only people at the Dregs’ table were Nina and Matthias, and Wylan didn’t mean to watch them, but, well, it wasn’t like he had many entertainment options. Nina seemed to be doing most of the talking in between large bites of waffles, and Matthias was mainly just staring at her and nodding every once in a while. Once or twice Nina looked over at Wylan and smiled, but she didn’t wave him over. She must have heard that he refused to join their gang.

As soon as he was done with his food, Wylan took off, hoping to get some exploring done so he knew exactly where everything was before class started. Immediately, though, this turned out to be a much more difficult endeavor than he expected, because everything seemed to be marked by signs that Wylan could not even begin to read. He spent hours wandering different hallways aimlessly, every once in a while coming across a corridor of classrooms and a few sitting rooms. By the time his watch told him it was lunchtime, the anxiety in his stomach was ten times what it had been when he had woken up that morning.

A clock struck noon somewhere in the distance just as Wylan realized he was completely and utterly lost. He was on the fourth floor, of that he was sure, but he couldn’t tell if he was in East Stave or West Stave or some other Stave that Jesper hadn’t bothered to teach him about. He was in a dark room that seemed to be used more for storage than visiting, the only light source being one dusty window at the end of the room, and he couldn’t quite remember how to get to the stairs; was it down the hallway and to the left, or should he turn right directly out the door? For a moment, the blond leaned against the wall in the darkened room and put his head in his hands, tears of frustration welling in his eyes. God, he just wanted to go _home_.

The creak of floorboards drew his attention. Wylan’s head snapped up and he peered through the darkness, looking for the source of the disruption. As his eyes adjusted to the low lighting of the room, he began to make out the silhouettes of three very tall, very muscular boys advancing toward him.

“He- Hello?” he said nervously, his body instinctively pressing closer to the wall. 

“What’re you doing up here all alone, kid?” the boy in the middle asked, taking another step. He was nearly a foot taller than Wylan and twice as wide, and his lips were pulled back in a sickening grin. 

“You must be fresh meat,” said another one of the boys, pulling a hand out of his pocket. In the darkness, Wylan could just make out a small knife in his grasp. “Anyone else would know better than to come up here all by themselves.”

“I’m- I’m sorry,” Wylan said, sliding to the left slightly. “I’ll just go. I’ll just go.”

“Oh, it’s too late for that.” The third boy moved parallel to Wylan. “Way too late.”

In his chest, Wylan felt his heart beating a mile a minute. He hadn’t even been at this godforsaken school for twenty-four hours and he was already going to get killed. Or worse. The blond suppressed a shudder and tried to expel the thought from his mind. No. No. There had to be a way out of this. He was smart, he just needed to think quickly.

He quietly shuffled further to the left. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” he said with an air of fake confidence. “But if I don’t hurry, I’m gonna be late for lunch.” And with that, he darted forward, straight between two of the boys.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” one of them snarled, reaching out and grabbing at the smaller boy’s wrist. He just barely caught him, then tugged him backwards until they were face to face. “We’re gonna have some fun first.” Suddenly, Wylan felt the cold sting of a blade at his throat, making one very shallow slice.

Time seemed to freeze. There was a body in front of him, a body behind him, and blood trickling down the pale skin of his neck. He could scream, but nobody would hear him. He could try to run for it again, but he’d probably end up bleeding out on the hardwood floor. He could take whatever was coming, but he’d probably hate himself for the rest of his life.

And then, out of nowhere—

The sickening crunch of metal meeting bone. The boy in front of him crumpled to the ground, and the other two leapt immediately into defensive positions. They weren’t fast enough, though, because there was another loud thud and the boy with the knife fell hard, the blade catching on Wylan’s collarbone on its way down. The sound of two punches landing came a moment later, and the third boy went down with a grunt.

“Wylan Van Eck is under Dregs protection,” said Kaz Brekker’s raspy voice. “Consider this a warning, Geels.” 

A warm hand landed softly on Wylan’s shoulder, and he flinched at the touch but didn’t pull away. “Come on, love,” murmured Nina Zenik in the younger boy’s ear. “It’s time for lunch.”

Wylan took a few shaky steps toward the door, and as he made his way into the hallway, he saw that all six of the Dregs he had met last night were there. Nina was beside him, gently guiding him downstairs. Matthias was right behind her, blond hair pulled into a ponytail at the base of his neck. In front of them, Inej moved without a sound, glancing sidelong at Kaz every couple of seconds. Kaz himself was adjusting his gloves as he walked, and for the first time, Wylan noticed that he had a cane with a crow’s-head handle. And on the younger boy’s other side was Jesper, hands deep in his pockets, staring pointedly straight ahead.

Nobody said a word until they reached The Barrel, where they all sat in the same seats they had used the evening before. They were barely before two staff members with rolling carts approached them and placed plates of food before them, then hurried off to feed the next students. Wylan stared blankly at the food in front of him, then looked up.

“Thanks,” he said finally, glancing around at the Dregs. Nina offered him a kind smile, while Matthias and Inej both just glanced at him with what he hoped was warmth in their eyes. Jesper still wasn’t looking at him at all. And Kaz… Kaz was giving him the same intense stare as always.

“I- um,” Wylan began, forcing himself to maintain eye contact with Kaz. He swallowed hard. “Is… Is the offer to join the Dregs still on the table?”

Kaz arched one eyebrow, then glanced at Jesper. After a moment of complete silence, his eyes slid back to Wylan and he spoke. “Yes.”

The blond nodded. “I’d like to, uh, I’d like to take you up on that now,” he said.

Kaz just nodded. All at once, the tension at the table seemed to break.

“Oh my God, Jes, did you hear Oomen cry out like a little girl when I hit him?” Nina said, taking a large bite of her lunch. 

“Okay, but what about the sound of Geels’ ankle breaking when Kaz got him with the cane? And the way he just _dropped_? That was sick,” said Jesper.

“Wylan,” Inej said softly. “You’re bleeding.”

Oh. In all of the chaos of the last ten minutes, Wylan had completely forgotten about the two cuts he had received upstairs. At the mention of it, the wounds began to hurt, and Wylan stood up so quickly he nearly knocked his chair over behind him.

“That’s right,” he said, shaking his head as he stepped backward clumsily. “I’m gonna- I’ll be- I’ve gotta-” He turned and stumbled out of the dining hall. 

Wylan made his way upstairs to his room, taking the steps two at a time. When he finally found himself at his door, he stuck the key in the lock and wiggled it wildly, unable to remember the trick Jesper had taught him. Turn all the way left, and then… what? He pounded one pale fist against the door uselessly.

“Woah, there, blondie, it’s alright,” said a voice behind him, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was sure that one of the boys from earlier had found him, but when he turned around, it was just Jesper. “I’ve got it,” said the taller boy, reaching past Wylan to jiggle the key and open the door quietly.

“I- I-” Wylan tried, but Jesper shook his head.

“Come on, let’s get you bandaged up,” he said, gesturing inside the room. Wylan stumbled in and went straight for a mirror.

The cut on his neck wasn’t bad at all. There was just one thin line of blood trailing down from it, already dried. But the slice on his collarbone was deeper, and blood was still oozing out of it, leaving a thick trail of crimson halfway down his torso. Wylan’s face paled at the sight of it, but Jesper seemed entirely unaffected by the whole thing. As Wylan gaped at himself in horror, the older boy pulled a first-aid kit out from under his bed and calmly grabbed a few alcohol swabs and bandages before approaching the younger boy.

“Take your shirt off,” said Jesper, laying the supplies out on Wylan’s desk. The blond’s eyes widened as he turned to stare at Jesper.

“If you don’t want me to do it, I won’t,” Jesper said after a moment. He took a step back. “I just want to help. But if you wanna do it yourself-”

“No,” Wylan said without thinking.

The corners of Jesper’s mouth quirked up. “Alright, then, take your shirt off so I can get you fixed up,” he ordered.

Wylan worked quickly to unbutton his shirt, ignoring the pain in his collarbone as he moved. Within seconds, his shirt was shrugged off and hung over the back of his desk chair. 

Jesper’s eyes swept over the younger boy’s exposed torso for a moment, finally landing on the long bloodstain. He reached out and grabbed an alcohol swab, tearing the packaging open with his teeth in a way that made Wylan flush. He could swear the taller boy winked at him as he bent down to wipe the blood off his ribcage.

“Those were the Black Tips,” he said as he scrubbed gently at Wylan’s skin. He kept one large hand on the boy’s waist, holding him in place, as the other worked at the blood. “Geels, Oomen, and Elzinger. They usually aren’t that bold.”

Wylan kept his eyes pointed upward, his focus on counting the dots on the ceiling tiles rather than the callouses on Jesper’s hands brushing against the smooth skin of his abdomen. “Yeah?” he said quietly, his hands gripping the edge of his desk behind him. 

“Yeah,” repeated Jesper. He tossed the alcohol swab in the trash and grabbed another one, which he slid up Wylan’s chest carefully. “They talk a mean game, but they’re really just about the lowest gang in this place. They probably picked you because you look like an easy target.”

“Gee, thanks.” Wylan tried to steady his breathing.

“Listen, you’re new, you’re kinda scrawny, and you were wandering around all by yourself. If I was going to pick a random kid to beat up… yeah, you’d be the perfect choice.” Jesper brought the alcohol swab up to the cut on Wylan’s collarbone and swiped it across just once, and the blond let out a hiss as the wound began to burn. “Sorry,” the taller boy mumbled, throwing the second swab away and grabbing a bandage.

“So do you think they’ll come after me again?”

“Nah,” said Jesper, placing the bandage carefully on the cut and smoothing it with slender fingers. Wylan clenched his jaw and stared furiously at the ceiling. “Geels is stupid, but he’s not stupid enough to fuck with a Dreg. If Kaz says you’re under our protection, you’re pretty much safe.”

Wylan nodded, grinding his teeth, as Jesper grabbed the last alcohol swab and cleaned the dried blood away from the side of his neck. “So, why were you guys following them?” asked the shorter boy.

“We weren’t following them, actually.” Jesper brought the alcohol swab to the second cut and rubbed it gently, the burning sensation drawing a small gasp from Wylan. “We were following you.”

“Oh? Why?”

“We figured someone would try something. Kaz thought us protecting you would convince you to join the Dregs, but Nina and I really just wanted to make sure you didn’t die on your second day here.” Jesper bandaged the cut, giving it a soft, satisfied pat, and then drew himself to his full height, looking down at Wylan with a glint of mischief in his eye.

“Thanks,” said Wylan, his cheeks burning as he kept his eyes trained over Jesper’s head.

“No problem.” Jesper continued to stare at him. 

“Can I help you?” Wylan asked after a moment.

“Yes, in fact, you can.” Jesper rocked back on the soles of his feet. “You can put a shirt on so that we can head back to lunch.”

“Oh.” Wylan scrambled past Jesper toward his closet, pulling a shirt off a hanger and slipping it on without even looking at it. He buttoned it up hastily and then turned to his roommate. “Um, I’m all good.”

“Good,” said Jesper with a smile. “Then chop chop, blondie.”


	4. CHAPTER FOUR

The first few weeks of classes passed without incident. Nobody tried to mess with Wylan now that he was a Dreg, and he had long ago learned how to fake an ability to read and write well enough to get through most classes without arousing suspicion. Inej was the only one of the Dregs he knew in his year, so they shared several classes and sat together in each of them, although she didn’t seem to talk much. Wylan couldn’t tell if it had to do with him or if it was just her personality.

Sixth period was his favorite class, however, because it was the one class he shared with Jesper. Wylan was sure that he would get tired of Jesper after the first day or so of living with him, but as more time passed, he only found himself growing fonder of his roommate. They roomed together, ate each meal side by side, and even sat together in the back of their literature class passing notes like middle-schoolers.

But on the tenth day of classes, Wylan’s worst fear became a reality. 

He had been having a really good day; there was still hot water when he took his shower, breakfast had been blueberry waffles and lunch was pasta, and they did an experiment in chemistry during fifth period. Wylan was nearly skipping as he entered Professor Haskell’s classroom.

“What got you in such a good mood, blondie?” asked Jesper as Wylan took his seat at the corner desk. Wylan grinned at his friend.

“Did an experiment in chemistry today,” he answered, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Felt good to get my hands on some real chemicals.” To be completely honest, Wylan didn’t even really like chemistry. It was just something he was good at. Music was his real passion. But he didn’t want to take his fancy little flute out of its case in front of Jesper (or any of the Dregs, for that matter) in fear of embarrassment, so he hadn’t played a note since arriving at Ketterdam. In the absence of his favorite hobby, he was making an effort to enjoy chemistry, and he had to admit it was a whole lot easier to have fun when he was actually conducting experiments rather than solving equations.

“Did you blow anything up?” Jesper leaned in conspiratorially.

With a lopsided grin, Wylan shook his head. “Nah, not today. But mark my words, something’s going up in flames by the end of the semester.”

The look Jesper shot him was equal parts impressed and amused. And there was something else there, too, something like desire or intrigue or hope. All Wylan really wanted was to spend eternity deciphering that look, but at that moment the bell rang and class started.

“In this class, we’re going to read several full-length novels. We’ll begin the first of eight today,” announced Professor Haskell with no preamble. Wylan’s stomach immediately dropped. To be fair, yeah, he had expected to have to read some books in his literature class. But this early in the semester? He had thought he’d have more time.

“We’ll start the year with an easy one. You can thank me later.” Professor Haskell grabbed a stack of books and began descending down the rows of the classroom, dropping a battered paperback on each desk as he walked by. “As it is Friday, you have two whole days before I will see you again, so I expect you all to have read the first chapter and written a page-long summary before you return to this class on Monday.” Wylan swallowed hard as a book hit the surface of his desk.

 _At least it’s thin_ , the blond thought immediately, his fingers ghosting over the faded cover. He couldn’t make out the title or the author, but the cover art was quite intriguing. Above a well-lit city street, a pair of crying eyes stared out at Wylan in a way that made him borderline uncomfortable. He turned to Jesper and held the book up with an arched eyebrow.

“What even is this?” the younger boy whispered, feigning ignorance of the story rather than its title. Given the name of the book, he was certain he could figure something out, but until he knew what he was working with, he was screwed.

“ _The Great Gatsby_?” asked Jesper, eyes darting between the book and the younger boy. “You know, Leo DiCaprio movie? Rich white New Yorkers in the 1920’s party a little too hard and a couple people end up dead? I thought you’d have read this in kindergarten.”

Wylan’s cheeks tingled slightly. “Oh,” he said, like he just understood something obvious. “Yeah. Yeah! I know _Gatsby._ ” He shrugged casually. “Just got a weird cover, you know?”

“So you haven’t read it before?”

Wylan looked deliberately away from Jesper. “No, no, I have, just… as an ebook.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Wylan saw Jesper nodding. “Makes sense, I guess,” he said as he opened his book and began to read. The blond swallowed hard, opened his own book delicately, and began to scan his eyes across the page.

The hour passed by painfully slowly, the drafty room filled with the sounds of pages turning and a clock ticking. It was agonizing, sweeping his eyes over the words without taking in a single bit of information. His head throbbed with the effort, but he kept trying, because he was Wylan Van Eck. He always tried. Word after word, page after page. His chest tightened with panic. His eyes pricked with tears. He couldn’t read, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t even _breathe_. When the bell finally rang, Wylan wasn’t sure he had ever found a noise so lovely in the entirety of his life.

“Woah, where are you going in such a hurry?” Jesper said, bounding up behind Wylan in the hallway. The blond had been the first one out of the classroom, still cradling the thin paperback in his arm as he half-sprinted down the corridor. Had it not been for Jesper’s unnaturally long legs, he may never have caught up to the younger boy.

“Nowhere,” Wylan huffed, turning sharply down an unfamiliar corridor. There were less students here, and one entire wall was made up of broad windows exposing the dim, damp world outside the school. 

“Well, you’re going nowhere awfully fast,” mused Jesper, keeping stride with his companion. He paused for a moment, as if waiting for Wylan to continue the banter, but was only met with silence. “Are you okay?” he asked after a moment.

“I’m grand.” Wylan’s voice was sharper than usual, his pace quickening. “And yourself?”

Suddenly he felt Jesper’s fingers wrap around his slim wrist. “Wylan,” the taller boy said, forcing him to stop. “What’s wrong?”

Wylan turned, lips pulled back in a snarl, but at the last second he bit back any cruel retort that might’ve escaped his lips. For a moment, the boy just ground his teeth, staring pointedly at his feet, but then he let his shoulders sag. “Nothing’s wrong,” he lied, shaking his head. A stray curl bounced off his forehead. “I just—”

“You just…?” Jesper prompted, his voice soft. Slowly, cheeks burning red, Wylan looked up. Jesper’s brow was furrowed, his mouth set with worry. His golden eyes met Wylan’s cerulean, and it was all the younger boy could do to keep his secrets to himself.

“I just need some air.”

The moment — if i had _been_ a moment — disappeared. Jesper let go of the younger boy’s wrist, nodding once. “Right. Yeah,” he said, blinking as if he were trying to clear his head. Then he grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know just the spot.” With a wink, he took off again.

Down the hallway, right turn, down a set of poorly-lit stairs, down another hallway, left turn, left turn, another flight of stairs, through a heavy door, and suddenly the two boys were standing side-by-side in the damp Washington breeze.

They were facing the south end of the island, a vast expanse of empty land that ended abruptly at the cast-iron fence. Just beyond the black bars was a treeline that might’ve been spooky had Wylan been alone there later in the evening. Instead of feeling frightened, though, the blond was mesmerized. He had lived the entirety of his life in a multi-million dollar brownstown on the Upper East Side, the monotony of city life broken up only by brief excursions to a country house upstate or a third home in the Hamptons, but he had never been allowed to explore or frolic in nearby nature. And he had certainly never seen that much _green_ before, not just in the damp grass and thick tree branches but also in the sky, in the air, on the side of the large stone building behind him. It was like no other colors existed; the world was just a million shades of green, and Wylan certainly wasn’t complaining.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” said Jesper after a moment, and Wylan nearly jumped out of his skin. In the peace of the moment, he had completely forgotten that he wasn't alone.

“Wait,” Wylan said without thinking. “You can stay.”

“Stay?” Jesper repeated, one hand on the doorknob. “Who says I want to?”

Blood rushed to the blond’s cheeks. “Oh. Well, I mean, you can go if you want, I was just—”

“Relax, blondie.” Jesper turned and walked back to Wylan, reaching out to pat his shoulder a bit rougher than necessary. “I do want to.” He paused, then flashed the blond a mischievous grin. “Do you wanna see something cool?”

 _Something cool_ for Jesper could mean anything. It could be a hidden passage, a wild animal, a rock with an interesting pattern. Hell, it could just be a ruse to lure Wylan to a deserted corner of campus and beat him half to death. He felt a wave of anxiety flow through him, followed closely by excitement.

The younger boy nodded. “Yeah.”

If it was possible, Jesper’s grin widened. He slipped his hand into Wylan’s and then took off around the corner, dragging the shorter boy behind him. Wylan’s face burned brighter, not that anyone else was around to notice. He allowed himself to be lead halfway around the school, but the further they went, the more curious he became.

“Where—?” he tried.

In less than a second, Jesper whirled around and pushed Wylan against the wall. His touch was firm but surprisingly gentle, like he was afraid to damage the younger boy. Quirking his lips in what was either a particularly flirtatious or troublesome grim, he placed one finger softly against Wylan’s lips in a shushing motion.

“Shh,” he breathed, and Wylan felt himself tremble slightly. It took every ounce of his strength to refrain from reaching out to stroke Jesper’s cheek. “We’re sneaking,” whispered Jesper, golden eyes boring into Wylan. “So be very quiet, yeah?”

All Wylan could think about was the finger still pressed against his lips, but he managed a very shaky nod in response.

“That’s a good boy,” Jesper murmured, removing his finger. For a second, he brushed his thumb against Wylan’s bottom lip, feather-light. The blond nearly whimpered in response. But then they were moving again, Wylan’s lip still tingling.

They slid along the damp stone wall for a few feet, then sprinted lightly across the empty lawn until they reached a shady copse of trees and paused to catch their breath. Leaning against the green moss working its way up a tree trunk, Wylan could just make out the sheen of sweat at Jesper’s temple, and he swallowed hard. He was tempted to ask again where they were going, but he wasn’t sure he could handle the response.

“Almost there,” Jesper breathed as he turned and dove into the shadows once more. Wylan barely managed to keep up, tripping over hidden tree roots and his own feet, whereas Jesper moved through the darkness with catlike agility. 

Wylan was so focused on the way Jesper moved that he almost didn’t notice the older boy stop; Wylan skidded to a halt in the damp soil, preventing himself from fully running into his companion but still hitting his face against Jesper’s back. He heard the taller boy sigh.

“There will be plenty of time for more physical activities in a moment, but can I have a few inches of personal space for just a second?” he murmured. Wylan took a large step back, face deeply flushed.

Jesper’s hands seemed to be on something in front of him, twisting this way and that, and Wylan could hear a small metallic clicking noise in rhythm with the older boy’s movements. For a few moments, that was the only sound, accompanied by their respective breathing. And then, there was a click and the sound of a lock coming undone, and Jesper was pulling open a gate Wylan hadn’t even noticed.

“There’s a _gate_ there?” he whispered, watching Jesper walk through the opening in the fence.

“Yeah,” said Jesper, gesturing for Wylan to follow him. The blond hesitated for a moment, then plunged deeper into the darkness of the woods.

“Inej discovered this about a year back,” Jesper explained softly, moving along a subtle path that wound through the trees. “The Dregs are the only people who know about it, so we’ll know if you narc.” Wylan copied his movements carefully, taking care to avoid the exposed tree roots and rocks that littered the ground. 

They had both been silent for a few moments when Wylan registered a new sound in the back of his mind: waves running aground. The noise grew louder the further they wandered into the wild, and the air grew wetter, the light brighter, until suddenly, with little warning, they were out of the woods and standing on the shore of a beach.

“If you go west about twenty minutes,” Jesper said, pointing in one direction, “it’s cliffs. And east,” he turned and pointed the opposite way, “there’s a cave. But this spot is my favorite.”

Wylan wiped one hand across his brow, brushing the sweat out of his eyes. “And why’s that?” he panted, taking a tentative step deeper into the sound.

A wicked grin crossed Jesper’s face. “It’s the perfect place for swimming,” he said, and then, in one fluid motion, he pulled his shirt up over his head and tossed it on the ground.

Wylan’s mouth opened in a small, soft ‘o.’ A blush crept up his neck, warming his cheeks, and Jesper cruelly maintained eye contact as he unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his pants, leaving them crumpled in the sand. 

“You comin’, blondie?” he said teasingly as he ran backward into the water.

For a moment, all Wylan could do was stand there and watch the taller boy as he disappeared into the waves, still smirking even as wave after wave battered his face. And then, still blushing violently, Wylan unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside. He stumbled out of his pants, thanked his saints that Jesper was underwater and couldn’t have seen it, and then ran straight into the water after him.


	5. CHAPTER FIVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't proofread this at all and it's like 90% Nina talking and I have exactly zero regrets. Also nobody asked but I just wanted everybody to know that the title of the Google Doc I'm writing this in is "six of crows but make it boarding school." Anyway happy reading!

“All I’m saying is, next time we decide to take an impromptu trip to the beach, you could at least warn me to bring towels.”

“Do you even understand what the word ‘impromptu’ _means_ , blondie?”

Droplets of lake water slid right down Wylan’s skin and onto the spotless stone floor as he followed Jesper down the corridor. They were taking a very indirect route through the school to the room they shared, hoping to avoid any faculty who might question them on their damp appearances. While Jesper seemed unperturbed by their situation, Wylan hurried behind him quietly, violent shivers overtaking his slender frame from time to time.

“Jesus, Wy, are you going to go into hypothermic shock before we get to the Crow Club?” hissed Jesper as they reached a stairwell Wylan had never seen.

The younger boy’s heart stuttered. _Wy._ Jesper had given him a _nickname._ It shouldn’t have made his cheeks turn pink, but then again, when had logic ever applied to his blushes?

“Well, we’re almost there, aren’t we?” Wylan asked.

Jesper opened his mouth, snarky comeback already working its way up his throat, and then immediately pressed his lips together in a thin line. He turned to Wylan and grabbed his arm roughly in one graceful motion, pulling him backwards.

“Hey!” Wylan protested, the tips of his ears burning. “What do you think you’re-” Before he could even see it coming, Jesper was pressing a hand over his mouth and pushing him none too gently through a door he hadn’t even noticed.

If it was possible for Wylan’s face to flush darker, it did (and if it wasn’t possible, it did anyway). His brain told him that he should push Jesper off, pull away from him, fight, anything. His heart was beating furiously; adrenaline tore through his veins. But some instinct made him wait. It was insane, really, that he was listening to a gut feeling over logic, a very non-Wylan choice, but he let himself be manhandled into a corner of the dark room anyway, hoping to God that he wasn’t about to die.

Wylan’s back suddenly hit a wall, not hard enough to hurt but with enough force to knock the breath out of him. He inhaled sharply through his nose, more than aware of Jesper’s hand still on his face and his body pressing Wylan into the darkness, and then he waited.

There was absolute silence for a moment, and then, somewhere nearby, footsteps. Wylan raised an eyebrow at Jesper, but the taller boy’s face was turned toward the doorway, half-obscured by shadows, listening intently.

“...least they could do is put a damn furnace in the lounge, it’s not like we don’t have the budget for it,” an aggravated woman's voice said.

“You know Rollins. It’s all about the aesthetic,” another woman said.

“Damn his aesthetic, I’m tired of having to wear two pairs of socks just to make copies! I swear, next semester I’m sending my resume to Ravka, at least they have the decency to install central heating…”

The voices and footsteps faded away as the pair of women seemed to turn a corner. The hallway fell silent once more, but as Jesper turned his face back to look at Wylan finally, he didn’t remove his hand or take a step back; he just smiled mischievously. 

“Sorry about that, blondie,” he said, sounding not very sorry at all. “Better safe than sorry, right?”

Wylan was glad there was a hand over his mouth and he wasn’t obligated to give a verbal answer. Instead, he just nodded slowly, hardly daring to breathe.

They could have been standing like that for seconds — it could have been hours — it could have been years. And then Jesper moved his hand, and he leaned forward a little, and there was this moment where Wylan was _sure_ they were going to kiss. His eyelids fluttered closed, and his bottom lip trembled, and—

Jesper slid his hand upwards and ruffled Wylan’s unruly hair. “Let’s get you dried off, kid,” he said, and he retreated, leaving Wylan cold and shivering against the stone wall.

The paralysis that came with the moment ended abruptly and Wylan leapt after Jesper, determined not to be left to find his way back to their room alone even if he was slightly mortified and very disappointed.

He noted sadly that Jesper didn’t turn to look at him one more time on their way back to their dorm.

The audiobook for _The Great Gatsby_ was narrated by the most annoying person in the world, Wylan had decided. The man’s voice, somehow but grating and nasally at once, gave the boy a migraine within less than five minutes and only seemed to get worse. He could only listen for about twenty minutes at a time before ripping out his earbuds in frustration and slinging an arm over his eyes, groaning loudly.

“You okay over there?” Nina asked, her voice and infusion of concern and amusement. “Or has Taylor Swift finally come out with a song you can’t vibe to?”

Wylan moved his arm an inch so Nina could properly see his glare. “Taylor Swift will never release a song that I can’t vibe with,” he said simply, pressing his head deeper into the pillow beneath him.

“Then what’s got your panties in a twist?”

The room was empty save for Wylan and Nina, who sat at Jesper’s desk and typed furiously at the keyboard of her laptop. Her acrylics were scarlet now, although Wylan wasn’t sure if she did them herself or had managed to sneak out to a nail salon sometime in the past month. Honestly, he wouldn’t put it past her. 

“It’s nothing,” he lied easily, shaking his head. “I’ve just got a headache.”

Nina hummed neutrally, like she didn’t necessarily believe him but wasn’t about to pry. Her tapping paused, resumed, paused again. He heard more than saw her twist in her chair to look at him.

“How are you doing, anyway?” she asked carefully, one restless hand drumming fingers against the messy surface of the desk. “With, you know, being here?”

It had been a month since his father had abandoned him in this place. Ketterdam was truly a place out of a time, a fitting exile for an unloved prince. It was a difficult transition, but if anybody had noticed Wylan struggling, they hadn’t said anything. Until now, at least.

“I’m…” He stopped, considered. Out of all of the Dregs, Nina and Jesper were his absolute favorites. They were the only people in the school that he truly felt any friendship with, except maybe Inej, but he was pretty sure their relationship fell more under the term of ‘silent companionship.’ And there was Matthias and Kaz, both of whom had come to his defense that day with the Black Tips, but he couldn’t help but feel like neither of them were the type of person you could become friends with easily (or for free, in Kaz’s case). But Nina was kind, and she was funny, and she seemed to care. So he continued, albeit somewhat reluctantly, “It’s easy sometimes. And sometimes it’s not.” 

Nina nodded, crossing one leg over the other. They sat in thoughtful silence for a few seconds, and then she said, “Have I ever told you why I came to Ketterdam?”

Wylan risked a glance at her. Her hands were finally still, clasped tightly around each other in her lap, and staring intently at a point somewhere above Wylan’s bed. The memory was doing something to her face, softening the edges of it, pulling the corners of her lips down — oh. It was sad. She was _sad_. 

Wylan wasn’t sure what to do with this.

“You beat people up, right?” he asked, his tone somewhere between ‘light’ and ‘serious’ at the same time. He looked away from her then, feeling as if he should be giving her privacy, but she didn’t seem to mind either way.

“Yes,” said Nina slowly. “But that’s not the whole story.” She sighed then, the noise lacking her usual dramatic flair, but Wylan made no effort to fill the silence that followed. If she wanted to continue, she would. If she decided not to, Wylan wouldn’t ask her to.

“I’m a foster kid,” she said suddenly, a stark contrast between the drawl of her last statement. She seemed to want to get it out before she decided better. “Well, kind of. My parents died when I was really young, or maybe they just didn’t want me, I’m not entirely sure. But I was raised in a group home, like, one of the big drafty houses full of angry orphans that you see in musicals and stuff. Straight out of _Annie_ or something, I’m not kidding. The guy who ran the home, our foster dad or whatever, he wasn't really a… good… person…. You know? Like, he didn’t beat us or anything, but he, well, he raised us like soldiers. Like it was a freaking boot camp instead of a foster home.”

Wylan nodded as if he understood, even though he really didn’t. It was more of a gesture to let Nina know he was listening and making an effort to understand. He heard her inhale deeply.

“There was nobody really looking out for me there. Or any of us. Except this one girl, Alina. She was our foster dad’s favorite. Until she wasn’t, at least. Until she decided to fight back against the way he was treating us all. I don’t know what really sparked it all; I was, like, fourteen. I didn’t want to get involved.”

Wylan nodded again in acknowledgment.

“Everything went to hell really quickly. There was another older girl, Zoya, who kinda friends with Alina. The two of them managed to get most of us sent somewhere else while they dealt with the mess. The other kids went to another home upstate, but it turned out I had a pretty hefty trust fund and so they shipped me off to this private school called Ravka. Fostered me in a new house. I didn’t have any siblings anymore. My foster parents were nice enough, but I was so lonely. I had grown up with dozens of other kids around me, even if our house had been cold and strict. I didn’t really know how to cope.”

He still wasn’t entirely sure where the story was going, but Wylan listened intently, slowly removing his arm from his face so he could stare at the ceiling.

“There was another private school kinda close to Ravka. Fjerda whatever. Some sort of Christian school, chock full of hulked out teenage boys and girls in long skirts. Very Aryan nation. I hated them. All of us at Ravka hated them. There was some long standing feud between us all, from something unclear that happened decades ago. They thought we were heathens. We thought they had god complexes. We hated them. They hated us back.” She stopped talking for a second, and when Wylan’s eyes darted over to her, one corner of her mouth was quirked in some sort of mirthless smirk. “Matthias went to Fjerda,” she said.

Oh. Okay. This was beginning to take a shape that Wylan could recognize, at least.

“I was… very particularly hated by Fjerda,” she went on, the smirk leaving her face. “I wasn’t just a student at Ravka. I was also a Wiccan. I was blasphemous, or whatever. And unrepentant. And sexy.” Nina winked. “Everything they hated. So, naturally, I was the target of a lot of pranks, a lot of social-media shit-talking. I didn’t really care. I could take it. If it wasn’t me, it was going to be someone else, and I didn’t mind taking the most heat. Whatever.” She shrugged like it was fine, but it was obvious that it did bother her, at least on some level. “Until the night a rock went through my window, and I found a cross burning in my front yard.”

“Matthias,” Wylan murmured, feeling sick to his stomach.

“Matthias,” Nina agreed. “And a few others. Well, I wasn’t the type of person to just take that sitting down. I didn’t care about subtweets, or spray paint on my car window, or toilet paper in the trees outside of my house. But that was… I mean, that was awful. That was a hate crime. So I found out who did it, and I… got my revenge.”

Wylan grimaced. Honestly, it wasn’t like he could blame Nina. He had no idea what he would have done in her situation, and if he wouldn’t attack his attackers, that would have more to do with cowardice and lack of strength rather than ethics or morals.

“Matthias’s family’s rich. Like, very rich. When I beat him up, they pressed charges. My foster family pressed charges back at them. The judge decided we were both in the wrong, and we got sent here.” The finality in her voice made it obvious that the story was over, and yet Wylan still wasn’t entirely sure how it pertained to him. He continued listening, just in case she decided to add something, and when she didn’t, he slowly sat up.

“Wow,” he said simply, meeting her eye across the room.

“Wow,” she echoed. 

He didn’t want to ask what it had to do with him, because he would absolutely sound like an asshole, so he didn’t. He just tilted his head back against the wall and sighed, his fingers picking absently at the seams of his blanket, until Nina spoke up again.

“You aren’t the only person here who’s never been loved, Wylan,” she said softly, and he froze. There was no pity in her voice, just her signature Nina compassion. “You aren’t the only person who has never felt at home. Not by a long shot. But that doesn’t mean you can’t find it here.”

She stood then, stretching her arms out in front of her. “I’ve got a dumb group therapy thing I’ve gotta get to. You alright?”

Wylan opened one eye, regarded her warily. After her last comment, he felt vulnerable, exposed. He didn’t like it very much. “I’m fine,” he said, a beat too late.

It didn’t look like Nina believed him, but she smiled indulgently anyway. “Then I will see you at dinner. Ta.” Blowing a kiss, she stepped quietly over the threshold, closing the door behind her.

Wylan groaned. Then he groaned again, louder. Time to listen to more of that stupid book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I haven't updated in forever, I started reading a different series and got sidetracked and then I looked at the comments on this and realized there are people who actually want this entire story written so I'm gonna try my best to finish it! If you see me posting TRC fanfiction instead of updating this, mind your business. And if you really feel the need to push me to finish this, you can find me on Tumblr @wespers!!


	6. CHAPTER SIX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of short and mostly dialogue, but I've been neglecting Kaz and Inej so I had to make sure they got some air time! Don't worry, Matthias stans, he'll be more prominent soon as well. Anyway, can you believe I updated this twice in one week? Amazing. Hopefully I'll have the next chapter ready soon since this was so short!

It happened sooner than he expected.

It was Sunday, and Wylan was in his usual seat at the Dregs’ table in the Barrel scarfing down his second serving of pasta. He had overslept and missed breakfast, and he was not a boy used to missing meals. Plus, he had a full day of writing papers via a voice-to-text program on his computer, and he really needed to find an empty classroom somewhere to work without being observed by his over-eager, incredibly nosy, maybe-kind-of-attractive roommate. 

But Kaz Brekker had different plans for him.

“Wylan,” Kaz said, giving him an intense look that never meant anything good, “I need you to make an incendiary device for me.”

With his fork halfway to his mouth, Wylan froze. Surely he had misheard. 

When he didn’t reply, Kaz continued. “Did you hear me, Van Eck?”

Inej was watching them now, quietly, intently, the way she did everything. 

Blinking slowly, Wylan nodded, placing his fork carefully on his plate with pasta still speared on the teeth. “An incendiary device,” he repeated numbly. “What kind?”

Kaz was prepared for this question. “Slow burning, low smoke output. Something that could burn for a while before being noticed.”

Wylan nodded again, weighing the positive and negative effects of asking his next question. Finally, his curiosity won out. “What is it for?”

He heard Nina inhale beside him, as if preparing herself for something.

If it was possible for Kaz’s gaze to turn colder, it did. “I hardly see how that information is relevant.”

Jesper slowly put his cup down on the table, watching the conversation unfold with a stillness that was very out of character.

Wylan barked out a short, mirthless laugh. “So you want me to make you something, but won’t tell me what it’s for?”

The entire table was watching them now, and Jesper’s eyes burned a hole in the side of Wylan’s face. He didn’t dare break eye contact with Kaz, though. Truth be told, Brekker terrified him, but something about this felt like a test. He didn’t blink.

There was no humor in Kaz’s voice when he said, “Exactly.”

Wylan ground his teeth for a moment. There was _definitely_ a test in here somewhere, and usually he was good at tests, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out the right answer for this. Maybe there wasn’t one. That seemed like the type of test Kaz would give: one that was impossible to pass.

“Fine,” Wylan finally gritted out.

The tension at the table did not break. It didn’t even soften, as Kaz and Wylan were still engaged in a staring contest that easily dropped the temperature in the room about twenty degrees.

And then—

_CRASH._

Instinctually, both Wylan and Kaz whipped their heads around at the sudden sound. Several feet away, a food cart was on its side, dozens of dishes rolling away from it, a dozen more broken into a couple thousand pieces on the floor. A young woman in the crimson livery of a staff member gaped at the mess in horror, but the room’s eyes weren’t on her. They were on the young man standing directly beside the cart, hands in his pockets, grinning sheepishly.

Jesper.

“Oopsie,” he said, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Sorry, ma’am, I didn’t see you coming.”

The room was absolutely silent.

“It’s alright,” the woman choked out after a second, not looking up. “I’ll- I’ll clean it up. You return to your lunch.” A young man approached her with a broom and dustpan in his hands.

“Don’t mind if I do,” said Jesper, throwing himself back down in the seat beside Wylan.

“You’re a mess, Fahey,” Kaz said after a moment, shaking his head. He did not return to the staring contest with Wylan.

Wylan, who was staring at Jesper like he had just committed murder.

“You okay, blondie?” Jesper asked cheerily.

If anything, Wylan’s expression grew _more_ horrified. “What did you _do_?” he hissed.

Jesper just shrugged. “It was an accident,” he said in a voice that seemed to indicate it was anything _but_ an accident. “Hey, I’ve got chem homework to finish. You wanna help?”

Wylan glanced back at the staff members sweeping up shards of glass and porcelain. “You didn’t even help clean it up!” he protested.

“Come on,” said Jesper with a roll of his eyes, standing up and dragging Wylan out of his chair with him. Inexplicably, Inej followed them out of the Barrel.

“So, here’s the deal,” said Jesper as soon as the trio was out of earshot of Kaz. “Kaz is planning something so top secret that he hasn’t even told _us_ what the endgame is. And I totally understand not telling _me_ anything, I mean, it hurts my feelings, but after what happened last year it really is fair, but not telling _Inej_? That’s weird, even for him.”

Inej nodded in agreement but didn’t add anything.

“I’m not supposed to tell you anything at all, I think he’s still sort of sussing you out, but I feel like I can trust you. Can I trust you, Van Eck?” Jesper’s hand, still on Wylan’s forearm, tugged at him suddenly, pulling him to a stop in the middle of the stairs.

Against his will, Wylan flushed. “You can trust me,” he said slowly.

Jesper turned to look at Inej, who looked back carefully. They seemed to be having a conversation with their eyes. Wylan oddly felt like he was intruding.

Finally, Inej nodded, and they both turned back to him, their faces dead serious. “Let’s get back to the Crow Club,” said Jesper solemnly.

The three of them walked the rest of the way to Wylan and Jesper’s room in silence, taking the stairs two at a time. As soon as they were through the door, Inej locked it behind them and then made her way to the window on Jesper’s side of the room and climbed up to perch there as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Jesper sat down at his desk, shoving some crumpled pieces of paper aside to clear the workspace a bit, and Wylan sat nervously on the edge of his mattress, growing more anxious by the second.

Jesper’s restless fingers found a bloated notebook on his desk and pulled it forward, flipping through pages full of his chaotic scrawl till they landed on the page they had been searching for. “Here’s what we know,” he said, voice low. “A month before this term began, someone approached Kaz with a job. He’s supposed to steal something, although what it is, he has not revealed. He also won’t say who hired him. The payoff is supposed to be huge, though, like, unprecedented. He’s recruiting for the job, trying to keep the team small, and he’s chosen Inej, Nina, and I so far. He’s still trying to decide on you and Matthias.”

Wylan swallowed hard. He knew Kaz was a thief before Ketterdam, but to know that he was still a thief now — and not just a thief, but a thief for hire — made him a bit uneasy. And to know that he was being considered to join the team for this big, mysterious mission…

Yeah, he didn’t like it one bit.

“We’ve done big jobs before, but something about this is really strange. He usually doesn’t hide the details from Inej. She’s usually the one _gathering_ the details. And he usually utilizes the whole gang, or at least more than six people.”

“So, what am I supposed to do about it?” Wylan asked, afraid to hear the answer.

“Nothing.” It was the first thing Inej had said since they left the table. Wylan was about to suck in a breath of relief, but she added another word. “Yet.”

He very much did not like the sound of that. “Yet?” he asked weakly.

“Kaz is notorious for giving everyone different pieces of information so that he’s the only one holding all the cards. He likes us confused. Likes to keep us on our toes. You’re going to get different information than what Inej and I get.” Jesper leaned his chair back on two legs, folding his long arms behind his head.

“If he even decides to let me in on the job,” Wylan pointed out.

“Leave that to us.” Wylan blushed again as Jesper winked at him. “But if we get Kaz to bring you into this, we need to know you’re going to help us.”

Wylan rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m going to help you.”

“I’d really like to trust you on that, blondie, but I’m gonna need some insurance.”

“Insurance?”

Jesper grinned. “Insurance, collateral, a rose by any other name or whatever. Something to guarantee that you won’t turn on us.”

Wylan swallowed. He really didn’t have anything to offer. “Is Nina in on this?” he asked suddenly, his brain still freefalling through all of this information.

“Of course. She’d be with us now, except somebody had to stay with Kaz and keep him occupied, and she’s surprisingly good at subtlety. If anyone can lie to Kaz Brekker, it’s her.” Jesper paused then, staring thoughtfully at Wylan. “And maybe you.”

“Me?” the blond sputtered, brows furrowing. “You’re out of your mind.”

Jesper’s grin was a wild thing. “Yes,” he agreed, two rows of bright white teeth on full display. “But that changes nothing. I believe in you, blondie.”

Wylan flushed for what was probably the hundredth time that day. “Lying is not exactly something I have a lot of practice with,” he lied.

It was Inej, still perched on the windowsill like she might fly away, who responded this time. “I disagree.”

Panic rose in Wylan’s chest as he turned to her. She was staring at him, as calm as always, but her eyes glinted sharply. For the first time, Wylan realized he was afraid of her. “What do you mean?” he scoffed, reaching for ignorance and falling quite short.

“You’re keeping a secret,” she said simply. She did not choose to elaborate.

Wylan looked wildly between Inej and Jesper, face flushing even deeper than usual. Truth be told, he was keeping more than one secret, each more relevant to this conversation than the last, but that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. It really didn’t. None of these secrets were really going to compromise their mission or job or whatever it was. These were _his_ secrets, the only reliable things in his life, and he’d be damned if he was going to give them away for free just because some random kids at this stupid school—

“A secret, huh?” Jesper’s voice interrupted Wylan’s inner monologue. “Well. That’s convenient.” His tone, curiously, was not sarcastic.

“Convenient?” Wylan echoed. He suddenly felt very dizzy.

“Yes.” Jesper nodded, crossing his right ankle over his left knee. “Secrets make the best insurance.”

“What- no. No. I’m not doing that. Here, take my- my watch, or—” Wylan began to unclasp the expensive watch on his left wrist, but across the room, Jesper held up a hand to stop him.

“I don’t want your rich boy family heirlooms, blondie. I don’t care. It’s the secret. It has to be the secret.” 

Mortifyingly, Wylan felt his bottom lip quiver. He bit down on it hard. “Why?” 

“Secrets don’t keep their value in spending,” said Inej quietly.

“Secrets don’t keep their value in spending,” Jesper agreed, voice uncharacteristically low. He turned his gaze back to Wylan and brightened again. “Just something Kaz says,” he explained with an offhand shrug. “And he’s not wrong. A good secret is more valuable than any amount of money in the world. So. It has to be a secret.”

Wylan's panic rose, crested, broke over him. And then, it quieted.

 _It doesn’t matter,_ it suddenly occurred to Wylan. _It doesn’t matter at all._

He could trust Jesper. He could trust Inej. He knew it. Not in the shallow, naive way that he trusted in so many other people, but steadily, solidly. His gut instinct was dependable, much more so than the ridiculous thing he called a heart. His heart was hopeful, but his gut was unwavering, and his brain was, above all things, unapologetically logical.

“Fine,” he said, voice surprisingly calm. “Here’s your insurance.”

Without noticing it, Jesper leaned forward in his chair. Inej remained unmoving on the windowsill, but her eyes betrayed her carefully concealed curiosity. 

“I can’t read.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you ever want to talk, request something, etc. you can find me on Tumblr @wespers :)


	7. INTERLUDE 1: JESPER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all!! I promised an update by the end of the week and for once I actually followed through! This chapter is very special to me for a few reason: first of all, it's completely from Jesper's point of view. I'd been planning for this chapter to be told by Jesper since I started writing the fic, but I did debate with myself a lot on it when I started writing because I wasn't sure if y'all would want a break from Wylan's POV, but in the end this was the only way to tell this part of the story. Secondly, this is the longest chapter of this fic so far, and I think it's the longest chapter I've ever written for a multi-chapter fic, so that's very exciting for me! And thirdly, I had an unreasonable amount of fun writing and editing this chapter. Seriously. It was the best experience. So, I hope you all enjoy!

“I can’t read.”

Jesper blinked slowly. The room was suddenly silent, the type of silence that made him itch. Wylan was sitting on the edge of his bed, more calm than Jesper could recall ever seeing him. Inej was seated on the windowsill, mask of tranquility intact as always. It seemed Jesper was the only person freaking out.

Because he was freaking. Out.

Not that he would show it — it had taken a lot of work to build up a reputation for being completely and utterly unfazed by everything, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to just throw all that away. Especially not in front of Wylan Van Eck.

What was it about Wylan Van Eck? Oh, that was the age-old question. He remembered the first time somebody asked him that.

_’I mean, sure, he’s pretty, but come on, Jesper,’ Nina had said in their European History class one day. ‘There’s nothing really that special about him. He’s never going to be one of us.’_

He hadn’t told her that that was half of it. That he didn’t _want_ Wylan to be one of them. That becoming one of them meant being broken in some ugly, irreversible way, and Wylan deserved better. 

_’There’s something off about him,’ Inej had commented one day after Wylan had left the lunch table. ‘He’s hiding something.’_

_‘We’re all hiding something,’ Jesper had pointed out._

_‘True, but he’s not one of us.’_

How obsessed they all seemed with making Wylan ‘one of them.’ How suspicious they were of people they couldn’t see through. 

There was just something about Wylan. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but Jesper knew it was there, knew that every day he came a little bit closer to holding it in his hands and proving to the world that he was right.

He didn’t have a crush on Wylan. Or whatever. No, Nina. No, Inej. Wylan was his roommate. That made him automatically out-of-bounds. 

Of course, out-of-bounds was infinitely more Jesper’s type than anything safe.

And, Wylan — sure, Wylan gave off the _impression_ of safe — the blue eyes, the blond curls, the slender frame — the quiet voice and elegant hands — he was kind and smart and intuitive — he _looked_ safe, sure, looked _boring_ , even, but — he didn’t just deal in explosives, he _was_ an explosive — a god damn grenade — Jesper was _this close_ to pulling the pin and hugging the bomb to his chest — but no.

No, he didn’t like Wylan. That would be crazy.

“You can’t read,” Jesper repeated for clarification.

Wylan’s eyes met his, fairy princess cerulean versus open field gold, and Jesper knew he wasn’t lying. Would bet his life on it. A thousand pieces of information were rearranging in Jesper’s mind, a puzzle that was put together wrong coming undone and righting itself. Something had been bothering Wylan the entire term so far. This was it.

For reasons he couldn’t quite name, Jesper felt slightly disappointed.

 _So that’s it?_ he imagined himself asking. _That’s all? That’s the big secret? You sure there’s nothing else there, maybe something about your attraction to your tall, handsome roommate?_

He pushed the thought away. Focus, Fahey. It isn’t like you like Wylan anyway.

Except he really, really did.

It was his own damn fault. Flirting had always been fun and carefree, but he got too damn cocky. Too attached. He overplayed his hand.

Jesper Fahey knew all about overplaying his hand.

“I can’t read,” Wylan repeated.

Jesper nodded, then turned to meet Inej’s intense gaze. He knew that she was waiting for his reaction, to see if he believed Wylan, if this was going to ruin their plans. He gave her a look that said _He’s telling the truth_.

Her answering look said _I agree. This makes sense._

His look asked _Do you think Kaz knows?_

She blinked and gave him a look that said _Probably. He’s Kaz. He knows everything._

Jesper ground his teeth. _Nobody else can know_.

Inej nodded almost imperceptibly. 

“Okay, blondie,” Jesper said finally, twisting in his chair to look back at Wylan cheerfully. “That works for us. Welcome to the team.”

“I still don’t really understand what’s going on,” Wylan admitted, but he looked much more comfortable than he had a few moments ago. “But fuck it. I’m in.”

Jesper hated the way his heart skipped a beat. Despised the thought that popped into his head about how that was the first time he ever heard Wylan say ‘fuck.’

 _Loathed_ the thought that came to him a second later.

“Great!” he said, as if Wylan swearing wasn’t the most attractive thing he had ever witnessed. “Now, I really do have chem homework, and I really do need your help.”

Wylan rolled his eyes. “Of course you do,” he said, but he headed toward Jesper’s desk anyway.

“Hey, Fahey, wait up!”

Jesper paused, considered. Asked himself if he felt like getting into a fight

It was like asking the sun if it felt like being hot; pointless, because the answer was always a resounding _yes_.

Jesper plastered his most mischievous grin to his face and turned around, ready for trouble, but it was just Matthias making his way down the corridor toward Jesper. 

Jesper’s shoulders slumped, but he kept grinning. “What’s up, Helvar?” he called over the throng of students moving from one class to the next.

Matthias caught up to him in just a couple of strides. “Brekker wants a list from Van Eck,” he said, his voice low. It had always surprised Jesper that somebody so large could be so soft spoken. “Things he needs. For, well, you know.”

Matthias had many skills, but subtlety was not one of them.

With a great sigh, Jesper draped an arm around Matthias’ shoulders and started guiding him down the hallway. The angle was a bit difficult, since Matthias was probably the one person in all of Ketterdam who managed to be taller than Jesper, but when had difficulty ever stopped him before? “So why,” he drawled, giving an offhand wave to a classmate as he passed, “did you come to me about it?”

Matthias allowed himself to be led, despite the way his shoulders tensed at the contact. “Because Brekker said to.” 

For perhaps the millionth time, Jesper sighed. He was the type of person who liked to sigh as often as possible; he had a penchant for dramatics. “And why did Brekker say that?”

“Didn’t ask.”

There were a lot of things that Jesper liked about Matthias Helvar. He liked his long hair and the way he never let any of their idiot classmates make him feel bad about it. He liked that he was willing to see things from other people’s viewpoints and admit when he was wrong. He liked that he managed to still have morals while doing the shit they did.

His favorite thing about Matthias, however, was that he didn’t speak unless he had something to say. It saved a lot of time.

“Great, thanks for that valuable information, Helvar,” said Jesper, finally removing his arm from around his companion. “Well, guess it’s time to go bother Van Eck. Wanna join?”

Matthias gave a noncommittal shrug, which Jesper took as an enthusiastic _Yes, please!_ Not that he had ever seen Matthias particularly enthusiastic about anything, but whatever. Jesper turned on his heel and began heading in the opposite direction.

Technically speaking, tracking down Wylan was not immediately necessary. It was fifth period, which meant that Jesper would be in class with Wylan in just an hour, but what could he say? He was just effective like that. Kaz had passed along an order, and by God, Jesper was going to do as he was told. And if it meant skipping class and seeing Wylan, well… that was neither here nor there.

Thanks largely to Jesper and Matthias’ extraordinarily long legs, they made it to the chemistry classroom before the bell. This was lucky, because Jesper knew there was no way in hell that he’d convince Wylan to leave class for anything other than a life-or-death situation, which this was decidedly not.

“Van Eck?” Jesper said through the open classroom door, the picture of nonchalance as he leaned against the frame. “A word?”

Wylan, who had been studiously laying out his supplies across the desk he shared with another student, looked up and immediately turned red. He nearly stumbled as he slid off his stool and hurried toward the door, and Jesper’s lips quirked up in half a smile despite himself. He forced it into a smirk.

“What’s up?” Wylan asked as soon as he was over the threshold. He paused when he took in Matthias’ large form hovering just around the corner. With a look on his face that was somewhere between interested and frightened, he glanced over at Jesper. “This isn’t some weird hazing thing where you guys beat me up and hang me from the flagpole, right?” Despite the bored tone of his voice, it was obvious that he was only half joking.

Jesper rolled his eyes and pushed off the doorframe, inclining his head in the direction of Matthias so Wylan would follow him around the corner. “That’s so pedestrian,” he said, leading him toward a more isolated stretch of hallway. “Private school hazing is more elaborate.”

“Good to know,” Wylan huffed.

“Oh relax, blondie, the Dregs don’t haze. We’re too classy for that.” Once he was satisfied that they had reached a particularly sheltered nook in the wall, Jesper leaned back, making room for Wylan and Matthias to join him. Wylan inspected the space nervously before slipping in across from Jesper, less than a foot of space between them. Matthias remained away from them, giving the impression of a lookout.

It struck Jesper then that this seemed very intimate, the two of them standing so closely in the closet-sized space. The light from the wall sconces in the hallway barely reached them, but Wylan seemed to almost glow despite the low lighting. His hair seemed more red than gold here, and his eyes glittered in a way that made Jesper’s entire soul ache. All he wanted was to reach out and cup Wylan’s still-blushing cheek in one hand, pull him just a little bit closer, and —

“So?” Wylan asked, so rudely interrupting Jesper’s inner monologue.

Jesper snapped to attention, blinking rapidly to clear the image away. “So,” he said coolly, “Kaz wants a list of everything you need.”

“Need for what?” Wylan had his arms crossed over his chest, and his left index finger was tapping incessantly against his right bicep, a nervous tic that Jesper had never noticed before. He filed the motion away in his always-growing catalogue of random Wylan information.

“For your _job_ ,” said Jesper, dragging the third word out meaningfully. 

“Oh.” Wylan’s eyes widened. “Oh! That. Well, um. Well. I can’t. You know.” He glanced over at the edge of the alcove, where Matthias’ shoulder was visible, then turned an intense gaze back to Jesper. He mimed writing for a second, and Jesper nodded knowingly.

“Hang on,” said Jesper, reaching deep into his pocket until his fingers wrapped around a pen and a scrap of paper. He pressed the paper against the wall and uncapped the pen with his teeth, then looked at Wylan as if to say _Okay, go on._

Inexplicably, Wylan blushed deeper, his eyes flickering to Jesper’s hands and the pen cap between his lips and his expectant eyes and back down again. He was quiet for a long second, and then the list came tumbling out of him, a jumble of scientific words and phrases that Jesper could hardly keep up with. He was sure that he was misspelling at least half — if not all — of the ingredients’ names, but it wasn’t like he could ask Wylan to spell them out. 

Finally, Wylan paused, staring very pointedly at the pen in Jesper’s hands, and sighed deeply, as if he hadn’t been breathing the entire time they had been in the alcove. Jesper felt quite out of breath himself, but he ignored the feeling, raising an eyebrow at Wylan and tapping the back of the pen against the list twice. “That all?” he asked finally.

Wylan nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah, that’s all,” he said, his voice very quiet. Then, after clearing his throat, he said a bit louder, “Where are you gonna get that stuff, anyway?”

Jesper capped the pen and stuffed everything back into his pocket. With a mischievous wink and a sly grin, he said, “Not your problem, blondie.” He turned enough to nudge Wylan’s shoulder with his own, and Wylan turned back toward him, lips quirked in a very soft sort of smile that made Jesper feel what he thought, very unpleasantly, might be considered butterflies in his stomach.

Which. Ew. That was decidedly _not_ Jesper Fahey’s style.

He moved out of the alcove so quickly that he bumped shoulders with Wylan again, this time jostling the boy uncomfortably into the wall. When he looked back, just for a second, he thought he saw something like disappointment on Wylan’s face.

He turned away.

“Thanks,” Jesper said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “We should have this stuff soon.”

“Yeah,” said Wylan, stepping back into the hallway. “I… have to get to class. See you later.”

He passed Jesper and Matthias quietly and headed back to the chemistry classroom, and for a moment, Jesper and Matthias just stood in the hallway in companionable silence.

“I should get that list back to Brekker,” Matthias said finally, reaching out for the list.

Jesper shook his head. “Nah,” he said, already walking away. “I got it.”

“I wasn’t aware today was Extreme Makeover Day.” 

Kaz’s voice was icy as always, a blade against Jesper’s throat. He found an odd sort of comfort in the casual cruelty of Kaz Brekker’s demeanor, and even dared to grin as he sat down across from him at the library table.

“Huh?” said Jesper eloquently, drumming his thin fingers against the tabletop.

Kaz raised an eyebrow without looking up from his notebook. “You’re Matthias Helvar with cut hair and very offensive makeup on, right? Because I know that I told _Matthias_ to bring me that list, not you, Fahey.”

Jesper just kept smiling. “Thought I’d take it off Helvar’s hands,” he said, pulling the folded-up paper from his pocket and sliding it across the table. “I’m nice like that.”

If Kaz Brekker were the type of person to snort, he would have. Instead, he just continued writing careful notes in the margins of his notebook, flicking the list back at Jesper. “If you’re so _nice_ , feel free to pick up the supplies yourself, then.”

Jesper eyed the list. “What’s this for, anyway, Kaz?” he asked, leaning his chair back on two legs. Kaz finally looked up, gaze hard.

“Questions don’t become you,” he rasped.

“Everything becomes me,” Jesper hummed.

Kaz outright rolled his eyes at that. “Just go,” he said.

“Aye, aye, captain,” said Jesper, grinning wider. He grabbed the paper and waltzed out of the library, still smiling to himself.

Jesper Fahey did _not_ like asking for help. 

If he had to, though, there were only two people that he felt comfortable going to.

The door to Inej and Nina’s room was open when Jesper showed up.

“Hey, Jes,” Nina said, patting the side of her bed in a _come here_ sort of motion. She was laying on her back, staring at the ceiling in a very dramatic, Jesper-like fashion that made him smile. He threw himself down in the empty space beside her.

Inej, sitting cross-legged in her desk chair, turned to look at him with a smile. “Long day?” she asked, flicking her braid over one shoulder.

Jesper sighed, long and dramatic as always, and propped an arm up behind his head. “You have no idea,” he huffed, kicking his shoes off to pull his legs all the way onto the mattress.

One of Nina’s soft hands reached over to pat him comfortingly on the chest. “I know what’ll cheer you up,” she said, nuzzling her forehead against his shoulder. “Let’s take a nap.”

“Oh, I wish,” Jesper groaned, shaking his head. “But I’ve got a job for Kaz. That’s why I’m here, actually.”

Nina pulled her head away. “Ugh. You’re no fun.”

“What do you need?” asked Inej.

“I’ve gotta find a bunch of stuff for the kid,” he said, wiggling his hand into his pocket to fish out the list. “And I have no friggin’ idea where to start.”

He tossed the folded-up piece of paper across the room and Inej caught it easily. She was quiet as she unfolded the list and looked it over, then put it in her own pocket. “I’ll take care of it,” she said. Jesper sat up.

“I’ll come with,” he said, already stepping back into his shoes. “I kinda stole a job from Matthias earlier, so I’ll never hear the end of it from Kaz if I pass off something that’s actually mine.”

At the mention of Matthias, Nina sat up as well. “Hm,” she said with a smile. “Speaking of Matthias, do you happen to know what he’s up to right now?”

Jesper thought for a moment. “Working out, I think.”

Nina’s smile morphed into something a little more wicked. “He probably needs someone to spot him,” she mused, sliding out of bed behind Jesper. “I should help him with that.” And she was gone.

Jesper snorted as soon as she was out of earshot. “She doesn’t really think she’s being subtle, does she?”

“No,” said Inej in all seriousness.

She wasn’t wrong. “Well, then, they’re a match made in heaven,” said Jesper, and they stepped out of the room together, Inej locking the door behind them.

He really should’ve figured they’d end up back at the chemistry classroom.

“Seriously?” Jesper hissed as soon as Inej came to a stop in front of the classroom door. She said nothing, just sank to her knees and pulled out her lockpicks. The darkened hallway fell silent except for the tiny metallic clinking noises emitting from the lock.

It took a tad longer than Jesper expected — Inej was good, but her level of finesse wasn’t even close to that of Kaz — but finally the door creaked open and they stepped inside, closing it behind them with a soft _click._ They didn’t dare turn the lights on as they moved around desks toward the storage closet in the back, where Inej picked an even more complicated lock. 

“Did you bring a flashlight?” she asked quietly, holding the tools between her teeth.

“Did I bring a flashlight?” mumbled Jesper, pulling a small light from his jacket pocket. “I’m not an amateur, Inej.”

Inej made a noise that sort of implied that he was, in fact, an amateur, but Jesper ignored it as he stepped into the blind darkness of the closet. He clicked his flashlight on and the soft white beam fell on a shelf lined with glass bottles.

The sound of paper crinkling behind him told Jesper that Inej was unfolding the list. “Your handwriting sucks,” she said, stepping up beside him. “And your spelling could use some serious work.”

“Well, next time, _you_ can make the list.”

She just shrugged and took the flashlight from his hand. “I’ll find it all,” she said, hip-checking him lightly. “You keep watch.”

Jesper sneered at the idea of being relegated to _keeping watch_ , but he got out of her way all the same. He was, admittedly, much more useful when he actually understood the job he was doing. He headed quietly back across the room and looked out the window slowly, already knowing that he wouldn’t see anybody outside. It was four in the afternoon — there was no reason for anybody to be in this part of the school. 

Unless, of course, they were stealing chemistry supplies for incendiary devices designed for mysterious plans. Which was entirely possible.

For a while, the only sound was the tinkling of glass against glass from the supply closet. Jesper rested his forehead against the cool window, eyes drooping, foot tapping silently against the stone floor. He was exhausted and insanely bored and vaguely embarrassed about the abrupt way he had ended his conversation with Wylan earlier that day. Jesper had actually skipped sixth period English just to avoid seeing his roommate for a little while longer, which was not very Jesper-like at all, he thought. In fact, avoiding a potential fight was the opposite of Jesper-like — was there a word for that? 

Oh, there was: _normal._

As a child, Jesper had tried very hard to be normal. He had tried to sit still in class, and he had tried to do his homework, and he had tried to do as he was told. But he just wasn’t very good at it. He wasn’t very good at it at all. He always had to be moving, or talking, or putting himself in danger. He liked to climb too high and run too fast and swim too far out. It wasn’t that he had a death wish, or anything; except that sometimes, it was _exactly_ like that. 

His mother had been good at handling it. She had been able to calm him down, lure him inside, talk to him till he sat (mostly) still. She was a lot like him, really, knew the ins and outs of his mind. His father tried to understand, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t his fault, not really. He just wasn’t like them. 

And then, when Jesper’s mother died, his father hadn’t had a clue what to do.

So Jesper got worse. He got less and less normal. He argued with teachers and disappeared for days on end and got into fights he knew he couldn’t win. Every other night, it seemed, the cops were dragging him home to his increasingly frustrated father. 

And then, the gambling had started. He really had only planned on doing it once, but one time was all it took. He stopped going to school, stopped coming home at night. Blew through his entire savings account in less than a month.

He knew that he was hurting his father. He wanted so badly to stop, but he couldn’t. 

Ketterdam was Jesper’s suggestion.

He gave everybody the same story: his father had grown tired of his fuck-up son gambling away all of their money, and he had shipped him as far away as possible. But that was a lie. Jesper had chosen to attend Ketterdam, had begged his father to send him away. And his dad, heartbroken and angry and so, so tired, had obliged.

“Jesper,” Inej said from beside him. He startled, smacking his forehead against the window. She bit back a laugh. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. But I’m done.”

He blinked a couple of times and pressed a hand to his forehead. “You got it all?”

She nodded, patting the hidden pockets of her jacket. 

He nodded back and opened the door, letting Inej slide out ahead of him before closing it gently behind him. She knelt down and locked the door again, replaced her lockpicks to one of the inner pockets of her coat, and they headed back downstairs.

They were silently making their way down the second flight of stairs when they heard it: a door opening below them. Inej froze, gripping Jesper’s forearm through his sleeve, and they paused to listen. 

“...yes, I am aware.” Kaz Brekker’s rasp was too recognizable to ignore. He seemed to be heading up the stairs, toward them. “No, that won’t work.” It occured to Jesper suddenly that there was only one set of footsteps. Who was Kaz talking to?

Eyes wide, Inej darted back up the steps, pulling Jesper behind her. He was not nearly as stealthy as she was, but he knew how to move quietly, so he did. They reached the landing and opened the door just enough to dart through it and into the shadows of another hallway.

Seconds later, they heard Kaz’s voice approaching. He was moving slowly — the weather had been weird, so his leg was probably bothering him — and seemed to be relying heavily on his cane. He was also undeniably alone.

Despite the possibility that Kaz would be coming through the door at any second, Jesper pressed his ear to the crack in the door and strained to listen. Inej mirrored him.

“Two months, at least,” Kaz was saying. “Longer if he messes this up.” 

His voice was very close now. Jesper and Inej exchanged a look.

Inej’s look said, _Who is he talking to?_

Jesper’s look asked, _And who is he talking about?_

Spying on Kaz Brekker was just about the worst idea that a person could ever have, Jesper thought, but he couldn’t help himself. Gritting his teeth, he dared a look out the window.

He immediately dropped his head, trying to process what he had seen.

Kaz had been turning away from him, but Jesper had very clearly seen a cell phone pressed against his ear.

“Of course I haven’t told him,” Kaz said, voice fading as he continued up the stairs. And then, “I’m not stupid, Van Eck.”

_Van Eck?_

Jesper and Inej remained frozen in front of the door for far longer than necessary. Several long minutes passed before they both spoke at the same time. 

“Van Eck?” Inej whispered.

“He was on the _phone_ ,” Jesper hissed.

It probably shouldn’t have surprised him that Kaz had a phone. They were strictly prohibited at Ketterdam, so of-fucking-course Kaz would have one. Maybe he was more surprised by the fact that Kaz had a phone and Jesper didn’t already know it. 

This amount of surprise was completely overshadowed by his surprise at the second revelation, however.

_Van Eck._

“He said Van Eck, right?” Jesper asked, even though Inej had just said it. “I’m not crazy? He said _Van Eck_?”

“You’re not crazy,” said Inej, shaking her head. Her brows were furrowed slightly, the only crack in her facade. “He definitely said Van Eck.”

“And Wylan’s last name is Van Eck, right? My brain didn’t just make that up?”

“Wylan’s last name is _definitely_ Van Eck.”

Jesper ground his teeth loudly. “Okay,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. “Okay. It’s time we get some fucking answers.”

Wylan was laying in bed with his earbuds in when Jesper burst through the door.

“Where is it?” Jesper yelled, crossing the room in two great strides. Wylan’s eyes flew open just as Jesper ripped his earbuds out and Inej shut the door behind them.

“Jesper,” she warned, but he could hardly hear her over the roaring of blood in his ears.

“What the hell are you doing?” Wylan asked, scrambling backwards away from Jesper. A look of genuine fear crossed his face, and Jesper immediately felt bad. He backed up a step.

“Where is it?” he asked again, voice quieter. He was still holding the earbuds. On the desk beside Wylan’s bed, his laptop was making noise. In the silence of the room, he could just make out a man’s voice reading _The Great Gatsby._

“Where is what?” Wylan was still pressed against the wall, eyes wide and panicked, but his breathing had calmed a bit. 

Jesper felt a hand on his shoulder. “Jesper,” Inej said again, her voice lower than usual. This was a tell-tale sign that she was angry, or very close to it. He took another step back.

“The phone,” Jesper said between clenched teeth. “The cell phone. Give it up, _Van Eck._ ”

The terror on Wylan’s face slowly morphed into confusion. “Phone?” he repeated blankly. “What phone?”

Jesper opened his mouth again, but Inej interrupted him.

“Do you have a cell phone?” she asked bluntly.

Wylan just blinked. “I mean, yeah, but it’s not _here._ ” He moved his hands in a weird gesture that seemed to define the word ‘here’ as _in this realm of existence._ “They said we couldn’t have phones here.”

Jesper turned to make eye contact with Inej. She was already looking at him.

 _He’s telling the truth,_ her look said.

 _Then who the fuck was Kaz talking to?_ asked Jesper’s glance.

They both turned to Wylan. “Promise?” asked Jesper, and he absolutely hated the way his voice cracked on the second syllable.

Wylan’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Yeah, I promise,” he said, exhaling deeply. He slowly unfolded his legs from where he had curled into them. “Jesus, Jes, you scared the hell out of me,” he admitted, running a hand through his disheveled curls. 

Jesper felt a wave of guilt spill through his stomach. “I’m sorry,” he said, collapsing face-first into Wylan’s bed. “I’m really sorry.”

And he was. Because the way that Wylan had reacted, the way he had made himself smaller, maximized the distance between himself and Jesper’s anger, the look of raw, unadulterated fear on his thin face… 

There was something bad in Wylan Van Eck’s backstory. Something very, very bad.

And Jesper had just reminded him of it quite vividly.

Face pressed into the soft darkness of Wylan’s comforter, Jesper dared to reach a hand out and blindly graze his fingers across whatever part of Wylan he could reach. His wrist, it turned out. He ran his thumb across the smooth skin and rested the pad of two fingers at the boy’s pulse point, feeling his heart race.

Shame flooded every inch of Jesper’s body. He had really, genuinely terrified Wylan. Kind Wylan, smart Wylan, precious Wylan. Wylan, who deserved all of the good in the world.

If Jesper ever found out who had hurt Wylan, he thought, he would kill them.

Slowly, he removed his hand from Wylan’s wrist and flipped back over to stare at the ceiling. “Okay,” he said, sighing. “Okay. Well, that’s good, right? That means Wylan’s not a double agent or whatever. He’s on our side.”

“What?” Wylan asked hoarsely. “What are you talking about?”

“We heard—”

“Jesper,” Inej interrupted. Her tone was so sharp that Jesper actually sat up to look at her. Her face was unreadable, but her voice had an unmistakable razor-sharp edge to it. “Come look at this.”

Neither he nor Wylan had noticed Inej pick up Wylan’s discarded laptop. Jesper wasn’t sure what she had found, since Wylan looked more confused than embarrassed or infuriated, but Jesper climbed off the bed and joined Inej at the desk anyway, raising his eyebrows at Wylan as if to ask what he was about to see. 

Wylan’s uncertain eyes said simply, _I don’t know._

Jesper stared at the screen for what could have been seconds and could have been hours. Nothing made sense. He read the results of the Google search over and over again, the words bouncing off the edges of his brain until he couldn’t think of anything, anything, _anything_ except for the sentence the mouse had highlighted.

“What are you guys looking at?” Wylan asked, his uncomfortable voice cutting through the haze of shock, betrayal, and bewilderment that was Jesper’s brain. Jesper finally looked up from the screen, locking eyes with Wylan in a very Kaz-like manner.

“Wylan,” Jesper heard himself say, despite not telling his mouth to move. “Why didn’t you tell us that your father was a senator for the state of New York?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you had as good a time reading this chapter as I had writing it! I don't know when exactly I'll post the next chapter, but hopefully it'll be in 5-7 days! The next chapter will be from Wylan's point of view again, but I do hope you noticed that this chapter was called INTERLUDE 1. Later in the story, there will periodically be more interlude chapters from other points of view. Anyway, if you ever want to talk/request something/etc, you can find me on Tumblr @wespers! Thank you for reading, commenting, and giving kudos! It truly means so much to me :)


	8. CHAPTER SEVEN

“In my defense,” said Wylan drily, “you never asked.”

It had been three hours, and they had figured out remarkably little about the mystery unraveling around them. Wylan and Jesper were sprawled out on opposite ends of Wylan’s bed, legs occasionally nudging each other somewhere in the middle when they thought nobody was looking. On Jesper’s bed, Nina was stretched out as if she was about to take a nap, and Matthias was sitting near the end, trying very hard not to touch her at all. And in the middle of the room was Inej, sitting in one desk chair and using the other as a footrest. Both desks were covered in the remnants of a feast that Jesper and Nina had snuck out of the kitchens, crumpled pieces of paper littered the floor, and Wylan’s laptop had been passed around so many times that he wasn’t completely sure where it was at the moment.

The sun had finally gone down, but the curtains remained open if for no other reason than so Wylan had something to stare at: the moon, dependable and honest, in perfect view of the spot where he rested his head. It was easier to look at the moon than to look at anything else in the room, especially Jesper, especially when he felt the warm brush of a calf against his shin every couple of seconds. Somehow, the contact felt dangerous, as if he was messing with something he didn’t understand.

In all honesty, he was.

“We shouldn’t have _had_ to ask,” Jesper scoffed, rehashing an argument that had been fought a dozen times already that day. “You should have offered that information freely.”

“It’s not like it comes up naturally in most conversations,” protested Wylan, glaring up at the night sky. “What, was I just supposed to introduce myself like, Hey, I’m Wylan, did you know my father is a United States Senator? That’s so pretentious! You never would’ve spoken to me again!”

“Fair enough,” conceded Jesper, his knee pressing against Wylan’s for one singular second. “But I’m surprised that wasn’t the secret you chose to tell me and Inej when we asked for collateral.”

Wylan gave half a shrug. “Didn’t feel relevant,” he muttered. 

“Didn’t feel relevant?” Jesper sputtered, his knee knocking against Wylan harder this time. “How was that not _relevant_? That’s a thousand times more relevant than you not being able to read!”

Wylan opened his mouth to shout back at him, but Nina interrupted. “Okay, boys,” she said, throwing a pen across the room at them, “Enough of that. You can argue when we all go home. Run it again.”

Jesper caught the pen and tossed it in the air above him, catching it when it came back down. “A month ago, somebody approached Kaz with a thirty-million-dollar job,” he said, throwing the pen up just to catch it again. 

“Two days later, my father told me that he was sending me to boarding school,” said Wylan, throwing an arm over his eyes. “My father, the United States Senator,” he added, glowering at Jesper from underneath his freckled forearm.

“Kaz came to me and told me he was keeping the job small: eight people. Me, him, Nina, Jesper, Rotty, Specht, maybe Matthias, and one more person, preferably a newcomer.” Inej underlined something in the notebook on her lap. "He didn’t tell me who hired him, what the job was, or why he wanted a newcomer.”

“The first night of the year, Kaz put me and Jesper on Wylan duty. We were supposed to follow him around until he inevitably got himself into trouble, then send up the bat signal and step in on his behalf.” Nina pulled a chunk off the roll in her hand and tossed it into her mouth. “He happened to mention, very specifically, who to watch out for and what floors to be particularly wary about. We thought it had something to do with the Big Bolliger incident last year, but now, obviously, we’re not so sure.”

“He has kept me on a very short leash.” This was Matthias, with his oddly formal way of speaking and, for some reason, vaguely Scandinavian accent. “But today, I was sent to Jesper to request a list from Wylan of supplies he needed. I was specifically instructed to go to Fahey and not to interact with Wylan in any way.”

Jesper was still occupying himself with the pen. “When I brought the list to him, he didn’t even look at it. Just told me to go get the supplies. I don’t know anything about chemistry, so I went to Inej.”

“We went to the chem classroom and I found everything we needed,” said Inej as she pinned back an unruly piece of hair. “And on the way back here, we heard Kaz on the phone. He specifically addressed the person he was talking to as Van Eck.”

“Naturally, you guys came back here and scared the hell out of me,” Wylan said, and he felt Jesper tense beside him. He kept talking. “But then we established that I am, in fact, _not_ the Van Eck that Kaz seems to be in cahoots with.”

“Cahoots?” Jesper repeated with a snort. “God, you’re such a nerd.”

“Jesper,” Nina warned. “We don’t have time for this. Stop flirting.”

Wylan’s face burned bright red underneath the cool skin of his forearm, but he let himself be brave for one moment and nudge Jesper’s leg softly with his own. He was rewarded with a slightly more zealous bump to his lower thigh.

“And that’s when we found out that Van Eck Sr. is a senator,” Jesper finished.

“So, that’s everything that we know for sure. What can we infer?” asked Inej, turning to a blank sheet of paper.

Wylan finally dropped his arm. “One: My father hired Kaz.”

“Two: Wylan was always intended to be the eighth person.” Matthias took a sip from a half-empty plastic water bottle.

“Three: Wylan’s dad is counting on that.” Jesper caught the pen, threw it, caught it again.

“Four: Nothing good is going to come of any of this.” Nina finished her roll and flicked a few crumbs onto the floor.

“And five,” said Inej, circling something dramatically. “They don’t know that we know.”

“So what are we even supposed to do?” Wylan asked, scowling up at the moon through his window. “We can’t exactly just go to Kaz and tell him we’re onto him. I don’t think I can stress enough how much we _do not want_ my father to know that we know anything.”

Jesper tensed again, as if something about this statement offended him personally.

“We can’t do anything without more information,” Inej said matter-of-factly. “Which means that, for now, we keep acting like everything’s normal.”

“Normal?” Jesper snorted. “Yeah, because it’s completely normal for all five of us to miss dinner. Kaz won’t think anything of it at all.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Nina said, and they could all hear the mischief in her voice. “I took care of that problem.”

Wylan propped himself up on his elbows, narrowing his eyes. “What did you do?” he asked, very afraid of the reply.

She shrugged, and on the half of her face he could see, she was smirking. “We didn’t want Kaz to know that we missed dinner, so I made sure that _he_ missed dinner, as well.”

It was Matthias’ turn to fix her with a suspicious stare. “What did you _do_?” he asked, and this time they were _all_ afraid of her answer.

Nina’s smirk turned into a full, maniacal grin. “Well, sabotaging just Kaz’s dinner would have been too suspicious,” she said. “So I sabotaged _everyone’s_ dinner.”

Inej slowly capped her pen and put it down. “ _What did you do?_ ” she asked very quietly.

Finally, Nina sat up and waggled her eyebrows. “I flooded the kitchen.”

Matthias groaned and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Inej pursed her lips and shook her head, but the look in her eye betrayed her amusement at the situation. Wylan threw his head back on his pillow and laughed quietly, running a hand through his hair. And Jesper absolutely guffawed, turning to look at Nina and say “You crazy bitch!” in an incredibly admiring tone.

“Nina,” said Inej, making an effort not to look up from her notebook, “you could seriously stand to learn a thing or two about subtlety.”

Nina just scoffed. “I am the most subtle person I know!” she protested, slapping her fist against the mattress. “How is it _not subtle_ to ruin a couple hundred people’s days just for the sake of inconveniencing one individual?”

Jesper and Wylan both laughed harder at this, their left legs pressed against each other hip to ankle over the blankets. And they were both fully clothed, sitting in a room with three other people, with only their legs touching, but Wylan was pretty sure it was the most intimate moment of his entire life.

The thought made him feel a bit hysterical, and he laughed even harder.

“ _How?_ ” Jesper gasped between laughs.

Nina stood, stretched, a tiny enigmatic smile playing on her lips. “It wasn’t too difficult,” she mused, slipping her shoes on. “But a magician never reveals her secrets.” With a wiggle of her fingers, she was heading for the door. “Well, we’ve gone around in circles for a couple hours now, so I give up. I’m going to bed.” 

Matthias stood as well. “I’ll walk you to your room,” he said quietly, tying his laces, and Nina beamed at him. They left moments later.

Inej glanced over at where Wylan and Jesper were still sprawled out, laughing harder than ever. “I’m going to go, too,” she said, so quiet that Wylan hardly heard her. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.” Her lips were quirked upwards in something like a smile as she shook her head at them and left the room, locking the door behind her.

In the silence that followed Inej’s departure, their laughter slowly died away, but neither boy moved. Wylan haphazardly brushed a tear from the corner of his eye and inhaled as deeply as his lungs would allow, trying very hard to focus on the warmth of Jesper’s leg against his while also not thinking about it at all. It was a strange endeavor, but he was fairly sure that he would actually combust if he only devoted all thought or none at all to the situation.

Jesper huffed out one last laugh and sighed, folding one arm beneath his head. He was quiet for a long moment, long enough for Wylan to think he may have actually fallen asleep there, and then he finally said, “You could have told me.”

Wylan swallowed, deliberately looking out the window instead of toward Jesper. “Which thing?” he asked very quietly.

“Both. Either. You could have _told_ me.” Jesper paused, propped himself up on his elbows to get a better visual of Wylan. “You could have told _me._ ” 

With a hum, Wylan raised an eyebrow at the moon. 

“Wylan,” said Jesper, still staring intently at him. “ _Wylan._ Look at me.” He nudged Wylan’s hip with his foot and Wylan finally obliged, sitting up partially to meet his eye. “ _You could have told me._ ”

Wylan’s traitorous brain didn’t come up with a good verbal response to that. Instead, it thought, _This is the longest I’ve ever seen him sit still. This is the most earnest I’ve ever heard his voice._

A second too late, Wylan nodded. “I…” he started, unsure of where the sentence was going. He cleared his throat. “I should have,” he admitted.

Jesper smiled wryly. “Glad we’re on the same page,” he said, flopping back onto his pillow. 

Wylan leaned back slowly, wanting to stay in the moment just a little bit longer. He felt something like courage unfurling in his stomach — or maybe it was fear. They always felt the same to him. Slowly, regretting it every syllable of the way, he said, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to go against my father.”

He felt more than heard Jesper inhale deeply beside him. “Why is that?”

Wylan chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was almost too quiet to be heard, despite the room’s silence. “He’s a very powerful man.”

Suddenly, Jesper was sitting upright, looking at him so intensely that Wylan did not dare meet his eye. “Wylan,” he said in a careful voice that made Wylan’s lip quiver, “what did he do to you?”

A ragged breath escaped Wylan’s lips, and he felt the familiar burning sensation of tears forming in his eyes. He naively wished to go back to the moment they had just left, laughing and knocking knees and breathing too hard.

But the past was the past.

Wylan scrambled over Jesper’s outstretched legs, stumbling out of the bed. “We should probably go to bed,” he panted, throwing open a dresser drawer to claw around for some pajamas. “It’s late. There’s class tomorrow. We should… we should…”

Jesper slowly stood and Wylan watched him out of the corner of his eye, watched the wary way he regarded Wylan, the cautious distance he kept as he crossed back to his side of the room. Somewhere inside Wylan’s frenzied mind, he registered concern on Jesper’s face. But all that really mattered was that he knew. He knew. He knew something had happened to Wylan. He knew that Wylan was messed up. He knew. He _knew._

Everything was ruined.

Wylan fell into an easy routine. Well, easy enough: wake up, avoid Jesper, go to breakfast, avoid Jesper, go to class, avoid Jesper, go to lunch, avoid Jesper, go back to class, avoid Jesper, spend the afternoon in the library to avoid Jesper, go to dinner, avoid Jesper, go to bed early in an attempt to avoid Jesper.

All things said and done, he spent an embarrassing amount of time avoiding Jesper.

What was the alternative, though? Wylan couldn’t stand the thought of enduring pitying looks and poorly-concealed sympathy. He didn’t want to spend more time with Jesper and deepen his feelings for him — infatuation, admiration, he wasn’t completely sure — just to remember that he was ruined and Jesper would never feel the same way for him. Avoidance was the easiest route.

Wylan was great at avoiding things.

Jesper was not great at being avoided.

The entire thing lasted exactly seven days.

Given the choice, Wylan probably would’ve spent the rest of his life simply pretending that Jesper didn’t exist. But Jesper did not give him that choice.

“Okay,” said Jesper as soon as Wylan had shut the door behind him. “This has gone on long enough.”

It was nine in the evening, and the library had just closed for the night. For the past week, this was the time Wylan had been going back to his dorm and crawling into bed. It was a little early for his taste, but it was easier to avoid Jesper that way. Jesper rarely returned to their room before ten, although what he spent his time doing, Wylan hadn’t the faintest idea.

“Oh,” Wylan said, hand still on the doorknob. “You’re here.” He was frozen, contemplating a thousand different courses of action that ranged from turning around and walking out to setting something on fire. Naturally, he decided to go with the mildest response. “Um. I have to. I have to go—” He turned, twisted the doorknob, but he was too slow. Jesper jumped out of his chair and pressed a gentle palm against the door, holding it shut.

The motion would have frightened Wylan had it not been so soft. Jesper was standing in a way that said he wasn’t necessarily blocking Wylan in; he would move if Wylan needed him to. It didn’t say _stop_ , it said _wait._

Wylan waited.

“Can we talk?” asked Jesper, removing his hand from the door slowly. He took half a step back and it occurred to Wylan then how close they were, nearly chest-to-chest, a pale face tilted up and a dark face turned down so they were looking at each other properly. He felt vaguely dizzy.

“Yeah,” Wylan’s voice said from somewhere very far away.

Jesper smiled, something softer and sweeter than his usual knife-sharp grin, and Wylan felt himself relax just a little bit. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“So, uh, what’s up?” asked Wylan after a beat, tone comically casual.

Jesper barked out a laugh, much too loud for their closeness, and immediately seemed to regret it. He schooled his features, letting a serious look settle over his face, and then sighed. Inexplicably, he met Wylan’s eyes and said, “I’m sorry.”

Wylan blinked. He cocked his head to the side, blinked again, and said, “Huh?”

“I’m sorry,” Jesper repeated earnestly. “I shouldn’t have pried.”

One of Wylan’s eyebrows arched. “That’s — wait, that’s what you think the problem was?”

Now it was Jesper’s turn to blink in confusion. “But… if that’s not the problem, what is?”

Wylan really didn’t want to explain it. He just wanted things to go back to normal. It was a naive wish, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself from thinking it for a second. But the thing about being both naive _and_ practical is that you can let the naivety cloud your brain, but you have to allow the practicality guide your actions. He swallowed his childlike hopefulness and said, “The problem is that I don’t want to be treated like a broken thing.”

Jesper nodded slowly, chewing on the inside of his cheeks for a moment. “Well, _are_ you a broken thing?” he asked finally.

“No,” said Wylan with all of the fake confidence he could muster. “I’m not.”

One of the corners of Jesper’s mouth twitched like he was suppressing a smile. “I didn’t think you were,” he said, and Wylan believed him. 

“Good.”

“Good.”

It was only a half-truth. _But I_ am _a broken thing_ , Wylan thought to himself, not moving from where he stood just a foot away from Jesper. _It’s just that I don’t want to be._

Jesper was still looking at him with the ghost of a smile written on his face, and Wylan was still looking back dangerously, the tilt of his chin defiant. Very slowly, hesitantly, Wylan reached out a hand and ran a finger up Jesper’s forearm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Jesper’s smile broadened gloriously. 

“You,” Jesper began, suddenly grabbing Wylan’s hand, “are—”

There was a sharp knock on the door.

The noise had an instantaneous effect — Jesper released Wylan’s hand and both boys sprung backward, Jesper sputtering, Wylan’s entire body flushing a vivid shade of scarlet. He felt, stupidly, like he had just been caught in the act of something highly indecent, which could not have been further from the truth. 

As Wylan struggled to catch his breath, Jesper rubbed a hand over his face to compose himself and then opened the door. He immediately stepped out of the way to make room for Nina, who was quickly followed by Inej and Matthias. They were all in various states of disarray.

“What happened?” asked Wylan immediately, watching as Inej clutched at a stitch in her side.

It was Nina who answered as she reached out to shut the door behind Matthias. “It’s time,” she said darkly, leaning against the doorframe and then sliding to the floor. She looked up at Wylan, then turned her gaze to Jesper, and then finally closed her eyes. “Kaz is coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this chapter less than six hours after posting the last update and then had to force myself to wait a few days to post. I was going to wait until Friday, but I have no self control, so here we are. I'm not even sorry about it. Also, I know that TECHNICALLY this is Chapter 8, but I'm not counting Interludes as chapters when it comes to numbering. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Things are really about to start going down, so get ready! And as always, you're more than welcome to come interact with me on Tumblr, I'm @wespers :) thank you for reading!


	9. CHAPTER EIGHT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some of that canon-compliant violence that we all love! Also, if you follow me on Tumblr, you may have seen my series of posts about researching rowboat travel; I know absolutely nothing about rowboats, having never travelled in one, and I did a bit of research but still don't totally understand how they work, so. Creative liberties were taken. This chapter contains a few minor canon divergences in details that literally do not matter to the storyline whatsoever, some so small that you may not even notice them. Since this is an AU, I figure it doesn't completely matter. General warning in this chapter for guns, blood, and violence. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Kaz Brekker, Wylan thought half-hysterically, was a force to be reckoned with.

He had not knocked when he arrived at Wylan and Jesper’s room; he had let himself in without a word, sat down at Wylan’s desk without preamble, and began speaking without introduction. It was expected that everybody would be paying attention and following the flow of Kaz’s monologue. It was expected that everybody was all in.

“It is a thirty million dollar job,” Kaz said, grabbing a loose sheet of paper and a pen. The letters he formed were thick and dark, his hand dragging the pen in decisive strokes. “Our mark is Fjerda. We leave a week from today.”

It was understood that nobody was to interrupt Kaz, and so they didn’t, although Wylan suddenly found it nearly impossible to concentrate on the next words to leave Kaz’s mouth, because all he could think was _FJERDA?_

“Rotty and Specht will be accompanying us, but they will not be participating in the heist itself. The six of us have specific skill sets that will allow us to be in and out before anybody notices. That is the goal. There is no contingency plan for ‘if we get caught.’ We _cannot_ be caught. Is that clear?”

Nobody said a word or moved an inch.

“That was not a rhetorical question,” said Kaz, looking up sharply. “Is. That. Clear?”

The five of them nodded in synchronization. 

“You do not breathe a word of this to anybody. Not another Dreg. Not Professor Haskell. You do not put it in writing. You do not whisper about it in the hallways. Break the code of silence, and you will regret it. Is that clear?”

They nodded once again.

“Good,” he said, and he stood quickly, pushing the chair away. “Be ready to leave by sundown a week from today. Only bring what you will absolutely need.” And then he was gone.

As soon as the door closed, Wylan sagged back onto his bed, trying to calm his breathing. This was it. This was real. This was happening. His brain, his beautiful brain, couldn’t process any of the information it had just received. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes and pushed till his vision went white.

The room was very quiet, and then Nina said what they were all thinking: “Fuck.”

Wylan was on the fifth chapter of _The Great Gatsby_ when there was a knock at the door.

Across the room, Jesper raised his brows at Wylan as if to say _Expecting someone?_ Wylan’s slight shake of his head said _No, I thought it might be for you._ Neither boy was particularly excited about the prospect of an unexpected visitor, but because Jesper was the most well-equipped for self defense, he pushed himself up off his desk chair and opened the door to see who was on the other side.

“Jesus,” he sighed as soon as he caught sight of the visitor. He opened the door wider, allowing Matthias to enter the room. “You gave us a heart attack, Helvar.” Jesper closed the door again and leaned against it for a second, his eyes fluttering closed. “We were sure that Kaz had put a hit out on us.”

Matthias said nothing as he took a few large steps to approach Wylan’s desk. Wylan pulled out an earbud and raised an eyebrow at Matthias, expecting the taller boy to say something, but he just stared back. Wylan sighed through his nose.

“What’s up?” he asked after another awkward beat of silence.

“Brekker sent me,” said Matthias, and the thought crossed Wylan’s mind that perhaps Kaz _had_ , in fact, taken out a hit on Wylan and Jesper, and that Matthias was there to carry it out, but then Matthias continued, “to work with you on a map.”

At this, Wylan paused his audiobook and pulled out the second earbud, furrowing his brows. “A map?” he repeated. “Of what?”

“Fjerda.”

Wylan blinked in confusion. “I’ve never been to Fjerda,” he muttered, rubbing the thumb and forefinger of his right hand against his eyes. “Shouldn’t, I don’t know, Nina be helping with that?”

Matthias jerked his head in Jesper’s direction. “Fahey says you can draw,” he said. “Nina has many talents, but art is not one of them.”

“I’m not _that_ good,” said Wylan with an indignant blush. “I’m sure someone else in the Dregs would do it better.” He looked past Matthias and shot a scowl at Jesper, who just waggled his eyebrows in reply.

“The demon sent me here.” Matthias’ tone effectively ended the argument, and he leaned against the wall beside Wylan’s desk with his arms folded across his chest and waited. Wylan snorted at his nickname for Kaz; _demon_ was a strangely fitting term for their leader. 

Wylan closed his laptop and set it on his bed, then pulled out a few sheets of empty paper and a mechanical pencil. “Fine,” he huffed, clicking the eraser a few times to push some lead out the tip. “Okay. Let’s get started.”

Something had gone wrong. That was all Wylan knew.

Jesper was very quiet behind him. “Blondie,” he whispered, only audible because his lips were less than an inch from Wylan’s ear. “You need to get to the boat. Now.”

Without a word, Wylan shook his head. A few of his curls brushed across Jesper’s face. The taller boy swallowed hard.

“It’s not up for discussion.”

Wylan turned his head just enough to give Jesper a defiant look. “Kaz said to stay with you. I’m staying with you.”

The corner of Jesper’s lip twitched. “Fine,” he breathed, one of his hands moving to his side. “But if you’re staying here, you’re taking this.” He pressed something into Wylan’s hands.

The weight of the object was strangely familiar. Wylan blinked down at it, his eyes still adjusting to the darkness, and then understanding washed over him. “Is this a gun?” he hissed.

Jesper brought a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture. “Yes,” he whispered, eyes glinting. “Do you know how to shoot?”

Wylan’s wide eyes darted between the gun and Jesper’s face. “Where did you _get_ this?”

“Tell me you know how to shoot.”

Wylan took a shaky breath. “I do,” he admitted, biting his lip. “But—”

“No buts.” Jesper reached toward his other side and pulled out another gun, turned the safety off. “Obviously, don’t shoot unless you have to. But if you have to, don’t hesitate.”

“I don’t like this,” whispered Wylan.

Jesper shot him a sympathetic look. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t like it either.” Something about his face implied that he specifically meant the idea of handing Wylan a gun, not the idea of a shoot-out. 

They were alone in the shadows of the treeline, steps away from the shore where they were supposed to be meeting the others. The boats were a couple hundred yards away, supposedly, but Wylan hadn’t seen them yet. To be fair, though, he and Jesper hadn’t even set foot in the sand; a fraction of a second before Wylan could emerge into the moonlight, Jesper had pulled him back and whispered in his ear that he had a bad feeling. Wylan, who was intimately familiar with bad feelings, had immediately stopped and waited.

What they were waiting for, Wylan had no idea. He wasn’t even sure what had Jesper so nervous, if there was something strange nearby and he just hadn’t noticed it, or if it was more gut instinct. Either way, he knew by now to trust Jesper. 

“What would I even have to shoot?” Wylan muttered, still displeased with the feeling of a handgun in his hands.

“Shut up,” Jesper breathed from directly behind him.

“No, seriously, Jes—” Wylan’s objection was cut off by Jesper’s hand pressing against his mouth, soft but firm. Instinctively, Wylan jolted, but Jesper wrapped his other arm around Wylan’s middle, pinning his arms. There was a moment of panic in Wylan’s brain before he realized why Jesper had immobilized him.

Less than a dozen yards to their left, footsteps were crashing through the trees, accompanied by several voices.

Wylan couldn’t make out every word, but there were two repeated phrases he recognized: _Brekker_ , and _the Wraith_.

Jesper’s arm tightened incrementally. 

Silence. And then, a girl’s whimper followed by cheers. “Oomen got the Wraith!” one boy called out joyfully.

Wylan’s entire body went cold. Behind him, Jesper went rigid.

“Stay here,” Jesper said, letting go of Wylan so quickly that the younger boy stumbled backwards a step. And then Jesper was crashing through the trees in the direction of the voices, gun drawn. Wylan was hot on his heels.

“Jesper,” Wylan hissed as they got close to their marks. “Jesper, stop!”

Jesper barely paused, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “They have _Inej_ ,” he snarled. 

“I know.” With his free hand, Wylan pulled something from his pocket. “Just stop. And close your eyes.”

Even with Jesper facing away from him, Wylan knew he was rolling his eyes. “I have to—”

“You have to close your eyes,” said Wylan with as much force as he could muster.

“Why? You can’t kiss me from back there,” Jesper said, but he stopped and turned to face Wylan, his eyes closed. “Okay, now what?”

“Now this.” Wylan shook the object in his hand once, twice, three times, and then threw it high in the air over Jesper’s head, snapping his own eyes shut at the last second. His eyelids flashed bright red for a moment. Silently, he prayed that they were close enough for it to have worked. 

Wylan’s eyes flickered open half a second before Jesper’s. The taller boy gaped at him for a moment. “Not bad,” he remarked, looking vaguely impressed, before turning and diving back into the trees. Wylan was only a few steps behind.

They were literally steps away from the commotion when they were intercepted by Kaz. “To the boat,” he rasped, holding up one gloved hand to stop them in their tracks. “ _Now_.” Without waiting to see if they followed orders, he turned and landed a blow. Wylan noticed with a twinge of pride that his device seemed to have worked; the few people he saw behind Kaz were clearly dazed and momentarily blinded.

Jesper let out a frustrated groan and grabbed at Wylan’s wrist, tugging him in another direction. It was obvious even in the darkness — _especially_ in the darkness, maybe — how he longed to join the fight. With every pained grunt or dull thud they heard from behind them, Jesper’s entire body seemed to jerk toward it, hating itself for each step it took in the opposite direction. It was miraculous that he did not turn back.

They crashed through the treeline side-by-side and immediately raised their guns at the other figures on the beach, just to lower them immediately. Nina and Matthias stood by two small boats, watching Jesper and Wylan approach with anxious looks on their faces.

“Inej was supposed to be here first,” Nina said as soon as Jesper and Wylan were within earshot. Something bright caught Wylan’s eye fifty yards down the beach — a brilliant fire, eating at the darkness. 

“What’s that?” he panted, hands dropping to his knees as he doubled over. He nodded in the direction of the blaze.

“Decoy,” said Matthias, eyeing the gun Wylan had pressed to his knee underneath his palm.

Jesper was muttering under his breath; Wylan strained to hear the words over his own wheezing. “ _Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Oh, God. Shit,_ ” he was mumbling, pacing back and forth but keeping his eyes trained on the trees. 

“Where is Inej?” Nina demanded, stepping into his path.

Jesper grimaced. “They got her, I think. Kaz was—” He stopped as they heard someone approaching from the darkness. They all turned, Jesper and Wylan raising their firearms, and watched as Kaz limped out of the shadows. In his arms, he carried a barely-conscious Inej. 

“We’re going,” he said, his voice nearly inaudible across the distance. “ _Now._ ”

They didn’t have to be told twice. Wylan, Nina, and Matthias immediately turned to the boats to climb in, and Wylan was startled to see a person already in each. It took his brain a moment to recall that the plans included Rotty and Specht, two upperclassmen from the Dregs whom Wylan had never spoken to. He hated the idea of trusting them right off the bat, but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice. Matthias steadied one of the small boats while Wylan got in.

Jesper had run toward Kaz and offered to carry Inej the rest of the way, but Kaz had brushed him off. They arrived at the boats at the same time, and Jesper climbed in beside Wylan, fidgeting nervously with his hands. His gun was returned to its holster, and Wylan silently held out the second gun, but Jesper made no move to grab it. 

“Oh God,” Nina said as Kaz sat Inej’s limp body gingerly in the other boat. “What happened?” Even in the darkness, Wylan could see the black stain on Inej’s shirt that seemed to grow larger with each passing second. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

“Save her,” was Kaz’s only reply as he settled in opposite of her.

The look on Nina’s face was equal parts fear and fury. “With what equipment, Kaz?” she hissed. “She was _stabbed_. She needs a doctor.”

Kaz turned, grabbed something from behind his seat, and held it out for her. A small box. “These are all our medical supplies,” he said. His face was set, but there was a tremor in his voice that betrayed his worry. “Do whatever you have to do, but _save her_.”

In the second boat, Wylan swallowed a sob. It was suddenly occurring to him just how out of his depth he was, how much danger he was in, how much trouble they could get into — he couldn’t do this, he needed to leave, he needed to go back to his room — no, he needed to go _home_ , he needed his _mother_ , he needed the last ten years of his life to have never happened — he was on _fire_.

Jesper placed a warm hand on Wylan’s knee, soft but steady. The contact grounded him. He breathed in, held, breathed out, held. Panic attack breathing. He sat his own hand on top of Jesper’s without looking at the other boy. 

“Let’s move,” said Kaz.

Matthias climbed into the empty seat across from Wylan and picked up an oar. He and Rotty began to row their boat away from the shore. In the other boat, Kaz and Specht worked their own oars. Jesper and Wylan did not move their hands.

Wylan had heard once that sound carries over water. He wasn’t completely sure if that was the truth, but nobody else was speaking, so he felt it would be wrong to break the silence himself. Instead, he focused on the feeling of Jesper’s skin beneath his palm, and Jesper’s palm atop his knee. It felt nice, comforting, but also dangerous in a way that his brain simply refused to elaborate on. 

It had taken the ferry fifteen minutes to travel from the mainland to Kerch the day that Wylan arrived at Ketterdam — it took triple that for the two boats to finally reach the shore of Lake Washington. In Wylan’s mind, they had made good time, but since he wasn’t completely sure how fast rowboats were supposed to move, he couldn’t be sure. It seemed like a good sign that Kaz wasn’t chewing them out for rowing too slowly, but Kaz wasn’t really speaking at all as their boats ran ashore; he was just staring at Inej so intently that Wylan had to look away.

The shore of Lake Washington, at least in the area they had washed up in, was much less sand and much more rock. It was difficult for them to maneuver into the small spaces that would allow them to ground their vessels, but between Matthias and Rotty, their boat found a place to rest rather quickly, and then Matthias was holding the rowboat steady so Jesper and Wylan could grab everything they could hold and climb out.

The night was cold and quiet, a combination that Wylan found disconcerting after a lifetime spent living in the loudest city in the world. Even after being at Ketterdam for nearly two months, he hadn’t grown used to the silence. It unnerved him, especially when combined with elements like _dark_ and _freezing_. He tried not to let it show, though, as he climbed up the rocks ahead of Jesper and took the bags and packages out of his hands.

They all worked in silence: Rotty and Specht taking the empty boats and hiding them; Kaz lifting Inej out of their boat and walking into the darkness with her and Nina, her hands still occupied by Inej’s wound; Matthias, Jesper, and Wylan moving all of their supplies steadily up the steep incline of the rocky shore. Wylan was the last man on their human conveyor-belt; he was charged with walking all the way from the top of the ledge to the large SUV they would be leaving in. Wylan didn’t know much about cars, but he could tell that the vehicle was expensive and fairly new by the shine of the paint and the scent of the interior. It immediately struck him as a vehicle his father would like, and he knew at once that his father had supplied Kaz with the SUV.

Wylan did not want to ride in that car.

Kaz and Nina were in the back row of seats with Inej propped up between them as Nina continued working her magic on the injured girl. Wylan still hadn’t gotten a good look at Inej’s wound, but from what he could piece together, it was a single stab wound to the abdomen and Nina was praying it hadn’t hit anything vital. It seemed that the bleeding had nearly stopped, which was a good sign, but Inej still had not regained consciousness, which was decidedly _not_ a good sign. Wylan stacked the last piece of luggage in the wayback and slammed the door just as Matthias and Jesper approached.

“Everything packed?” asked Matthias. Wylan nodded, and the older boy headed around to get in the SUV. Jesper leaned against the side for a moment.

“You good?” he asked Wylan, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He was tapping one foot incessantly in the dirt, and Wylan felt the strong urge to step down on his foot and make him stop.

He didn’t.

“I’m fine,” said Wylan, and he wasn’t sure if it was a lie, but it certainly wasn’t the truth. He was freaking out on a hundred different levels, but all of the noise had faded into a nauseating sort of static that made it impossible to think. “You?”

Jesper flashed a blinding grin. “I’m fantastic,” he said, and it sounded kind of like he meant it. Wylan didn’t know what to make of that. “I call window seat.”

“Oh, no,” Wylan groaned. “Not fair. The middle seat’s the worst.”

Jesper’s smile turned positively impish. “Oh, I _know_ ,” he said, pushing off the side of the vehicle. He opened the door, sighed, and then turned around. “Alright, fine, blondie. Rock paper scissors.”

Wylan smiled, putting his hands into the starting position. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” they said at the same time, and they shot up their symbols in unison.

Jesper: scissors. Wylan: paper. If it was possible for Jesper to look even more delighted, he did; his eyes lit up as he gestured through the SUV door. “Your chariot awaits,” he said, and Wylan rolled his eyes as he clambered into the vehicle and wedged himself into the middle seat of the middle row. Jesper slid into the seat beside him and then spread out his lanky legs until Wylan, practically pinned between Jesper and Matthias, could hardly move. Matthias, to his credit, was curled toward the window in an obvious effort to give the car’s other occupants some semblance of personal space. Jesper, however, was taking up double the room that his lanky body required, and it was completely on purpose. The entire length of his leg was pressed against Wylan’s in a very non-casual way, and Wylan had to put conscious effort into keeping his breathing even as he tilted his head back to glare at the ceiling.

In the driver’s seat, Rotty turned the car on and put it in drive, and within seconds they were pulling quietly onto the streets of Seattle, Ketterdam nothing more than a few yellow dots in their rearview mirror. In the very back seat, Kaz and Nina were whispering so quietly that Wylan couldn’t make out their words. In the front, Rotty and Specht were absolutely silent, Rotty’s gaze set straight ahead and Specht marking notes on a large paper map. And in the middle, Matthias leaned his head against the glass of his window and closed his eyes; Jesper began to hum something cheerful under his breath and knocked his knee against Wylan’s; Wylan ground his teeth until his jaw ached.

It was going to be a long trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! As always, you are more than welcome to come interact with me on Tumblr, I'm @wespers :) Thank you for reading! I'm hoping to upload the next chapter over the weekend :)


	10. CHAPTER NINE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing i can say could possibly excuse the month-long hiatus i took from writing this, but if it helps any, i am sorry! i just completely lost my inspiration for a HOT minute, but here's this finally!!! hopefully i can get back on a roll and update somewhat-frequently, at least while we're all still quarantined. i hope you're all doing well and staying safe, and i hope you enjoy this chapter!

Jesper snored.

Wylan was used to Jesper’s snoring; they were roommates. He had very well gotten used to it, except he had gotten used to it in the sense that Jesper slept all the way across the room and all Wylan had to do to drown it out was pull his pillow over his head. He was _not_ used to Jesper snoring from directly beside him, or, exponentially worse, Jesper snoring from where his head was on Wylan’s shoulder.

“For the love of _God_ ,” muttered Nina from the backseat after a particularly loud snore.

Matthias huffed. “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” he grumbled, but he sounded just as weary of Jesper’s incessant noise making as the rest of them. They had been on the road for close to three hours, and Jesper had not been quiet for a single minute of it; between humming, singing, talking, and snoring, he was moments away from getting thrown out of the moving vehicle.

Shutting Jesper up was a tricky thing; keep him asleep and he snores, but wake him up and he talks. No matter how miserable the snoring in his ear (and what he suspected was drool on his shoulder) made him, Wylan had to admit that he was enjoying the warmth of Jesper against his side. Very slowly, he reached his free hand up and tilted Jesper’s head at a slightly different angle. The other boy remained asleep, but his snoring stopped.

“Oh, _thank_ you, Wylan,” said Nina, sounding as if she were close to tears. Wylan risked a glance back toward her; she was crying. Her hands, stained red, were steady on Inej’s abdomen. Beside her, Kaz was watching her work with a hardness that frightened Wylan, even as he was not the subject of his anger.

“I really think we should take her to a hospital,” Nina whispered, maybe to herself, maybe to Kaz. Either way, nobody replied, and the vehicle was silent once again. Jesper pressed his face deeper into Wylan’s neck and then jerked awake, knocking his head against the window. Wylan couldn’t help but laugh.

“Are we there yet?” mumbled Jesper, rubbing the side of his head. He glared at Wylan, heatless, as Wylan shook his head, still smiling. 

“We’re still in Washington,” said Wylan, rolling his shoulders. They were sore from the position he had spent the past hour in, unmoving so as not to disturb Jesper. He also noted, with heat creeping across his cheeks, that there was definitely a wet spot where Jesper must have drooled on his collar. He ignored it pointedly.

In the back of his throat, Jesper made a frustrated noise. “You’re kidding,” he huffed, and he leaned forward across Wylan’s body to take a look at the GPS. When he confirmed that Wylan was, in fact, telling the truth, he sat back with a deep sigh. Then he curled up in his seat, leaned his head on Wylan’s shoulder, and immediately fell asleep again. 

Wylan couldn’t say that he minded. He couldn’t say that at all.

“Fahey. Van Eck. Wake up.”

Wylan’s eyelids fluttered open and he lifted his head. He blinked once, twice, and the realization that he had been asleep with his head leaning on Jesper’s hit him like a freight train; a blush crawled up his neck as he turned to look at Matthias. “What’s up?” he mumbled, breathing in deeply the moment he felt the pressure of Jesper leave his shoulder.

“We’re stopping for the night,” was all Matthias said as he opened his door. Wylan rubbed his hands over his eyes and then slid over in the seat to stick his head out the door and get a look around. Behind him, he heard Jesper mutter something about _the night my ass, it’s damn near seven in the morning_ as he opened his own door.

They were in a city — it could be any city, it wasn’t like Wylan could check the GPS — and parked in a crowded lot outside of what was obviously a fairly nice hotel. One look at the building told him that his father was putting them up there, that he had reserved their rooms, that he would pay their bills. Wylan hated it. He wanted to clamber into the driver’s seat and drive them as far away as possible. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to turn around and scream in Kaz’s face.

He did none of these things.

Instead, Wylan stepped out of the SUV slowly and carefully. He was not shaking; there was a point of nervousness, of fear, where he became steadier and calmer than he could ever be if he were okay. He had reached that point. He walked quietly to the back of the vehicle and grabbed his backpack and then followed Matthias inside the hotel without a word. 

The lobby was nice, too nice to really be comfortable. It was all stainless steel and square furniture and modern art, the sound of running water coming from the fountain in the middle of the room, granite countertops and receptionists in pristine pantsuits and immaculate makeup. It struck Wylan as too sterile for a hotel. It reminded him sickeningly of a doctor’s office. He tried not to cringe as he watched Kaz approach the desk.

He only had to say a few words to receive three room keys before turning back to Matthias, Wylan, and Jesper. “Change in plans,” he said as he approached, leaning heavily on his cane with each step. “We have two doubles and a single. The single was mine, but…” He trailed off harshly, as if he knew the words he had to say but did not want to say them, and then shook his head. “I’ll be staying with Zenik and the Wraith tonight, and Zenik requested your presence as well, Helvar.” Matthias gave a stoic nod, and they all graciously ignored the reddening of his ears. “The other double can go to you two,” Kaz gestured at Wylan and Jesper, “or it can go to Rotty and Specht. I suggest you work that out soon.”

It took a few seconds for Wylan to properly process what Kaz was saying. By the time he had wrapped his brain around it, Jesper was slinging an arm around Wylan’s shoulders and grinning offhandedly. “We can take the single,” said Jesper, not looking at Wylan. He held out his free hand for a key. “We’ll make the sacrifice.” 

If Kaz had any opinions about their sleeping arrangements, he kept them to himself. His eyes flickered over to Wylan once as he slid the room key into Jesper’s palm, but his gaze was completely devoid of emotion. He said, voice low, “Tenth floor, room ten-twenty-eight. I’m in ten-twenty-nine, Rotty and Specht will be in ten-twenty-seven. Do not leave your room unless absolutely necessary. Do not leave the hotel under any circumstances. We will be leaving in twelve hours. You can order room service, but do not allow anyone into your room, including the cleaning service. Keep the door locked at all times. Understand?”

Wylan and Jesper both nodded.

Kaz inclined his head in the direction of the elevators. “Go get some sleep. Helvar and I will get Zenik and the Wraith.” And then he was gone.

“Why did you say that?” Wylan hissed as soon as Kaz was out of earshot.

Jesper, his arm still casual around Wylan’s shoulders, just turned them and led them both toward the elevators. “Say what?” he asked a bit too innocently, leaning forward and pressing the ‘up’ arrow. 

Unamused, Wylan ground his teeth. “You know what,” he muttered, pulling on his backpack straps. 

“What, blondie, it’s fine if I sleep on your shoulder but god forbid we share a bed?” Jesper’s voice was dripping with sarcasm, but it did not completely hide the hurt in the back of his throat. Wylan sighed.

“I don’t care about _touching_ you.”

Jesper perked up considerably. “Oh? Then what’s the problem?”

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding. Wylan stepped forward, leaned against the wall, and pressed the button for the tenth floor. The doors slid shut. “The problem is that you _snore_.”

The entire elevator was empty, but Jesper chose to lean against the same side as Wylan, close enough for their arms to press against each other’s. “No, I don’t,” he objected goodnaturedly, nudging Wylan’s shoulder with his. “I just breath loudly.”

Wylan snorted. “If that’s what your breathing sounds like, you should see a doctor.” 

“I don’t believe in doctors,” Jesper said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Before Wylan could argue that point, he continued, “but really, if you don’t want to share a bed, I can take the couch.” His voice was suddenly softer, more genuine, than it had been since before they had started the drive. Wylan risked a glance at him — his eyes were just as earnest as his words, maybe even moreso. The shorter boy swallowed.

“It’s fine,” he said with half a smile. “I don’t mind if you don’t.” He nudged Jesper’s shoulder, and then the elevator was dinging again, the doors opening on a bright, empty hallway. Wylan stepped off the elevator and turned right, following the signs that pointed in the direction of the ten-twenties. He arrived at their door two steps ahead of Jesper, who had the key; the taller boy slid the card into the door and the lock clicked, allowing him to twist the knob and hold the door open for Wylan. Wylan stepped over the threshold and reached out a hand, sliding it along the smooth surface of the wall until he could find the lightswitch and flick it up. 

The room was small but nice, and clean in a way that reminded Wylan, uncomfortably, of his childhood home after his mother’s death. The decor was minimalistic, every color a different shade of beige. The far wall was almost entirely a window with the blinds raised, showing off the eastern sky and the lights of whatever city they were in. It was still dark out but there was a strip of pale blue at the horizon that promised that dawn would be breaking soon. The bed, its headboard resting against the wall on the left, was queen-sized and made up with a white duvet. Directly across from it was a dresser and a television, and beside the dresser was a door that presumably led to the bathroom. It was a standard (albeit slightly nicer-than-average) hotel room, and yet its effect on Wylan was supremely negative; he felt nauseous, lightheaded, and dizzy all at once as he stepped further into the room.

Behind him, Jesper shut the door and locked it, then kicked off his shoes. “No couch,” he mused, dropping his bag on the floor. He popped his neck, then turned a curious look on Wylan. “You okay, blondie?”

Wylan nodded slowly. “I’m fine,” he said, not really listening to the words coming out of his mouth. “I’m- I need to shower before I can sleep.”

Jesper raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t ask any questions. “Let me get ready for bed, first,” he said, and he grabbed his bag again and headed for the bathroom, hip-checking Wylan as he passed him. Wylan just quirked the corner of his lip in response.

The bathroom door closed. Wylan took a few steps forward and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, willing his head to stop throbbing. He needed to sleep — _really_ sleep, like in a bed — but he needed a shower, too, and to brush his teeth, and God, he needed to stop thinking. Thinking about his mother. Thinking about his father. Thinking about their New York City brownstone, and the way that raised voices echo off marble flooring, and —

“Bathroom’s all yours,” Jesper said, throwing the door open dramatically. He crossed the room and crawled into the bed without another word, and it was all Wylan could do to stand and grab his bag and lock the bathroom door behind him.

He showered quickly and efficiently, brushed his teeth and washed his face, slid into his thin t-shirt and sweatpants and then re-entered the room quietly, trying not to disturb Jesper’s slumber. When he risked a glance toward the bed, however, Jesper was sitting with his back to the headboard, studying Wylan with an intensity that pulled a blush easily from Wylan’s shower-damp skin.

“What’s up?” Wylan asked, his voice deceptively casual, as he zipped up his bag and pushed it against the wall. He turned away from Jesper, ran a hand through his wet, floppy hair, and then turned back. Jesper’s eyes were still on him.

The comforter was pulled up to Jesper’s bare shoulders, but his hands were resting above the blanket, his fingertips tapping the surface of the bed restlessly. He patted one hand against the empty space in a beckoning motion. “Are you okay?”

There were a thousand possible answers to that question, each less truthful than the last, but instead of giving any sort of verbal indicator, Wylan just snorted. He shook his head, the corners of his lips turning up in a rueful smile, and then crossed the room to fall onto the bed face-first.

“Fair enough,” Jesper remarked, and Wylan felt the other boy tousle his hair lazily. It was an oddly comforting sensation, the scrape of dull nails against his scalp, and he leaned minutely into the touch. Jesper’s hand slowed, but it remained in Wylan’s hair, still brushing back and forth as gently as Wylan had ever been touched.

“Wy,” said Jesper after what may have been seconds and may have been hours, “go to sleep.”

Wylan turned his head to the side so he could breathe better, moving slowly so as not to dislodge Jesper’s hand. His face was turned away from Jesper, so he couldn’t see his reaction when he said, “I’m afraid.”

Jesper hummed low in his throat and removed his hand from Wylan’s hair, but only to run it down the back of his neck and rub it in soothing circles between his shoulderblades. “I know,” he said quietly, and then his hand was gone entirely. “Get under the blanket.”

Wylan got under the blanket.

Jesper slid down on the mattress until his head rested on one of the pillows, and Wylan rolled over onto his side, head on the second pillow, facing Jesper. The lamps on either side of the bed were still on, but neither boy moved to turn them off.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully,” Jesper whispered. Wylan nodded. “I can’t make you any promises, blondie, but I can say this: nothing bad is going to happen to you so long as I can stop it.”

Wylan’s face burned. His heart hurt. It was not a guarantee of anything — _so long as Jesper can stop it_ , there are a thousand things in the world he could not stop if he tried — but it was a declaration of something. It was Jesper saying _I care about you._ It was Jesper saying _I will defend you._ It was Jesper saying _I won’t hurt you._

Wylan could not remember the last time somebody had cared about him.

His stomach felt strange — swirly, sort of, but in a pleasant way — and tears pricked at his eyes — when was the last time he had cried? _really_ cried? — and his cheeks burned — god, what disastrous genetic combination had resulted in him turning pink at the drop of a hat? — but his mind could only form one clear, coherent thought: _kiss him._

Wylan turned his head until his face was pressed against the pillow, his eyelids blinking shut of their own volition.

Jesper’s voice was strangely ragged. “Go to sleep,” he said again.

Wylan did.

When he woke up, Jesper was still asleep.

It was not yet midday — the angle of the sun through the open blinds was too low, the glow of the room too bright — and he was still bone-tired. They should have shut the blinds before going to sleep. They should have turned off the lights. Jesper was lucky; he was turned toward the center of the bed, his back to the window, his eyes still blissfully shut to the overwhelming morning light.

Wylan slid out of bed and crossed the room barefoot to lower the blinds.

It darkened the room greatly, even though the lamps were still on, and provided Wylan with immediate relief from the throbbing behind his eyes. He switched off the lamp on Jesper’s side of the bed, and then the lamp on his side of the bed, but then he reconsidered before climbing back in underneath the blankets. His lips were chapped and his tongue was dry; he was parched. He turned and grabbed a small plastic cup from the table, then wandered into the bathroom to fill it at the sink. He drank a full cup, and then another, and then a third, and finally he felt well enough to retreat back to bed.

Jesper was awake when he stepped through the doorway.

“Oh,” Wylan said, very softly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” said Jesper with a flippant shrug.

Wylan nodded once, awkwardly, and then walked back to the bed and sat down atop the covers. It felt wrong to climb back in beside Jesper when they were both awake, when the sun was up, when he wasn’t unbearably sad and Jesper wasn’t comfortingly calm. He felt _wrong_ , somehow, in a way his sexuality hadn’t made him feel in a long time. He felt gross. Predatory. Uncomfortable. He swallowed hard.

“You alright?” Jesper’s voice was rough with sleep, and it sent a thrill through Wylan’s chest and a wave of nausea to his stomach. 

“‘M fine.” Wylan shook his head, looking pointedly away from Jesper. “I’m, um. I’m going to get some ice.” The words fell from his mouth before his brain even attempted to work through it. “I’ll be right back.”

Without looking, he could feel Jesper give him a concerned once-over. “Okay,” the older boy said slowly, in the sort of voice you might use on a spooked animal. Wylan had to physically repress a noise of indignation in his throat as he stood, collected the empty ice bucket from the table, and left the room.

The hallway was empty, in that sort of way that hotel hallways always are. There was a certain safety to be felt in an empty hotel hallway, provided the hotel was not haunted, and Wylan let the atmosphere calm him as he followed the small signs pointing in the direction of the ice dispenser. He hadn’t thought to put on shoes in his haste to escape Jesper’s worry, but oh well. The carpet had surely been vacuumed recently, right? And it wasn’t like he was leaving the floor.

The ice dispenser was at the very far end of the corridor from Wylan and Jesper’s room, on the end of the floor where the rooms were numbered in the ten-tens. Wylan did not encounter another person all the way there, and he was alone, too, as he scooped the ice into the bucket, and even for most of his return to the room. It was not until he was just a few yards from his door that he had reason to believe anyone else was alive in the entire world. 

“...two million dollars is surely enough to buy your silence.”

It was Kaz Brekker’s voice, low and dangerous, slipping through a cracked hotel door to Wylan’s left. His eyes immediately landed on the room number: _1027._ Rotty and Specht’s room. He found himself stopping to listen some more.

“I just think it’s a bad idea,” somebody muttered. It was certainly either Rotty or Specht, but Wylan had never been able to tell them apart even as he looked at them; he certainly couldn’t distinguish between their voices.

“Your concern is noted. Do I have your word you won’t speak of it to anybody else?” Kaz again, hard as steel, a tone that had once made Wylan flinch. He could feel his pulse in his throat.

“Obviously. But when this comes back to bite you in the ass—”

“You’ll still walk away with your two million. Let me solve my own problems.” It was obviously the end of the discussion, and Wylan had the sudden thought that he did _not_ want to be caught eavesdropping by an angry Kaz Brekker. He darted silently to his door and threw himself over the threshold a fraction of a second before he heard Rotty and Specht’s door creak open.

“Wylan?” Jesper’s voice asked from across the room as Wylan, panting, closed and locked the door. “What’s wrong?”

The younger boy leaned back against the door gently, staring up at the ceiling. “Everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, i hope you liked it! as always, you're more than welcome to come interact with me on tumblr, i'm @wespers :) hopefully i will have the next chapter up within the week, but if it starts to take too long, just bully me a little. i can take it!


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